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LIBRARY 

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IRVINE 


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LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 

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IRVINE 


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K55 


1884- 


-—^— ~-A"  -•    y    ;  fc."-     ;  73-r''t<; 


OLD  STATE  HOUSE,  STATE  STREET. 


THE  WORKS  OF 

F.  MARION 
CRAWFORD 


AN  AMERICAN 
POLITICIAN 


.**'  \. 

V      0      fl 


THE  REVIEW  OF  REVIEWS  COMPANY 

NEW    YORK 


OLD  STATE  HOUSE,  STATE  STREET. 


THE  WORKS  OF 

F.  MARION 
CRAWFORD 


AN  AMERICAN 
POLITICIAN 


**"  % 

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REVIEW  OF  REVIEWS  COMPANY 

NEW    YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1884, 
BY  F.  MARION  CRAWFORD. 


First  published  1884.      New  uniform  edition  printed  July   1804  • 
June,  1906. 


To 

MY  DEAK  FRIEND, 

ELIZABETH  CHRISTOPHERS  HOBSONt 

IN  GRATITUDE  AND  AFFECTION; 
7  DEDICATE  THIS  STORY. 

OtKSTAKU*opu,  October  7, 1884. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MRS.  SAM  WYNDHAM  was  generally  at  home 
after  five  o'clock.  The  established  custom  where 
by  the  ladies  who  live  in  Beacon  Street  all  re 
ceive  their  friends  on  Monday  afternoon  did  not 
seem  to  her  satisfactory.  She  was  willing  to  con 
form  to  the  practice,  but  she  reserved  the  right  of 
seeing  people  on  other  days  as  well. 

Mrs.  Sam  Wyndham  was  never  very  popular. 
That  is  to  say,  she  was  not  one  of  those  women 
who  are  seemingly  never  spoken  ill  of,  and  are 
invited  as  a  matter  of  course,  or  rather  as  an  ele 
ment  of  success,  to  every  dinner,  musical  party, 
and  dance  in  the  season.  Women  did  not  all 
regard  her  with  envy,  all  young  men  did  not  think 
she  was  capital  fun,  nor  did  all  old  men  come  and 
confide  to  her  the  weaknesses  of  their  approach 
ing  second  childhood.  She  was  not  invariably 
quoted  as  the  standard  authority  on  dress,  classical 
music,  and  Boston  literature,  and  it  was  not  an  un 
pardonable  heresy  to  say  that  some  other  women 
might  be,  had  been,  or  could  be,  more  amusing  in 
ordinary  conversation.  Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Sam 


8  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

Wyndham  held  a  position  in  Boston  which  Boston 
acknowledged,  and  which  Boston  insisted  that  for 
eigners  such  as  New  Yorkers,  Philadelphians  and 
the  like,  should  acknowledge  also  in  that  spirit 
of  reverence  which  is  justly  due  to  a  descent  on 
both  sides  from  several  signers  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  and  to  the  wife  of  one  of  the 
ruling  financial  spirits  of  the  aristocratic  part  of 
Boston  business. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mrs.  Wyndham  was  about 
forty  years  of  age,  as  all  her  friends  of  course 
knew  ;  for  it  is  as  easy  for  a  Bostonian  to  conceal 
a  question  of  age  as  for  a  crowned  head.  In  a 
place  where  one  half  of  society  calls  the  other  half 
cousin,  and  went  to  school  with  it,  every  one 
knows  and  accurately  remembers  just  how  old 
everybody  else  is.  But  Mrs.  Wyndham  might 
have  passed  for  younger  than  she  was  among  the 
world  at  large,  for  she  was  fresh  to  look  at,  and 
of  good  figure  and  complexion.  Her  black  hair 
showed  no  signs  of  turning  gray,  and  her  dark 
eyes  were  bright  and  penetrating  still.  There 
were  lines  in  her  face,  those  microscopic  lines  that 
come  so  abundantly  to  American  women  in  middle 
age,  speaking  of  a  certain  restless  nervousness  that 
belongs  to  them  especially  ;  but  on  the  whole  Mrs. 
Sam  Wyndham  was  fair  to  see,  having  a  dignity 
of  carriage  and  a  grace  of  ease  about  her  that  at 
once  gave  the  impression  of  a  woman  thoroughly 
equal  to  the  part  she  had  to  play  in  the  world,  and 
not  by  any  means  incapable  of  enjoying  it. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  9 

For  the  rest,  Mrs.  Sam  led  a  life  very  much  like 
the  lives  of  many  rich  Americans.  She  went 
abroad  frequently,  wandered  about  the  continent 
with  her  husband,  went  to  Egypt  and  Algiers, 
stayed  in  England,  where  she  had  a  good  many 
friends,  avoided  her  countrymen  and  countrywo 
men  when  away  from  home,  and  did  her  duty  in 
the  social  state  to  which  she  was  called  in  Boston. 
She  read  the  books  of  the  period,  and  generally 
pronounced  them  ridiculous ;  she  believed  in  her 
husband's  politics,  and  aristocratically  approved 
the  way  in  which  he  abstained  from  putting  theory 
into  practice,  from  voting,  and  in  a  general  way 
*from  dirtying  his  fingers  with  anything  so  corrupt 
as  government,  or  so  despicable  as  elections ;  she 
understood  Boston  business  to  some  extent,  and 
called  it  finance,  but  she  despised  the  New  York 
Stock  Market  and  denounced  its  doings  as  gam 
bling.  She  made  fine  distinctions,  but  she  was  a 
woman  of  sense,  and  was  generally  more  likely  to 
be  right  than  wrong  when  she  had  a  definite  opin 
ion,  or  expressed  a  definite  dislike.  Her  religious 
views  were  simple  and  unobtrusive,  and  never 
changed. 

Her  custom  of  being  at  home  after  five  o'clock 
was  perhaps  the  only  deviation  she  allowed  herself 
from  the  established  manners  of  her  native  city, 
and  since  two  or  three  other  ladies  had  followed 
her  example,  it  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  a  per 
fectly  harmless  idiosyncrasy  for  which  she  could 
not  properly  be  blamed.  The  people  who  came  to 


10  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

see  her  were  chiefly  men,  except,  of  course,  on  the 
inevitable  Monday. 

A  day  or  two  before  Christmas,  then,  Mrs.  Sam 
Wyndham  was  at  home  in  the  afternoon.  The 
snow  lay  thick  and  hard  outside,  and  the  sleigh 
bells  tinkled  unceasingly  as  the  sleighs  slipped  by 
the  window,  gleaming  and  glittering  in  the  deep 
red  glow  of  the  sunset.  The  track  was  well  beaten 
for  miles  away,  down  Beacon  Street  and  across  the 
Milldam  to  the  country,  and  the  pavements  were 
strewn  with  ashes  to  give  a  foothold  for  pedes 
trians.  For  the  frost  was  sharp  and  lasting.  But 
within,  Mrs.  Wyndham  sat  by  the  fire  with  a 
small  table  before  her,  and  one  companion  by  her 
side,  for  whom  she  was  pouring  tea. 

"Tell  me  all  about  your  summer,  Mr.  Vancou 
ver,"  said  she,  teasing  the  flame  of  the  spirit-lamp 
into  better  shape  with  a  small  silver  instrument. 

Mr.  Pocock  Vancouver  leaned  back  in  his  corner 
of  the  sofa  and  looked  at  the  fire,  then  at  the  win 
dow,  and  finally  at  his  hostess,  before  he  answered. 
He  was  a  pale  man  and  slight  of  figure,  with  dark 
eyes,  and  his  carefully  brushed  hair,  turning  gray 
at  the  temples  and  over  his  forehead,  threw  his 
delicate,  intelligent  face  into  relief. 

"  I  have  not  done  much,",  he  answered,  rather 
absently,  as  though  trying  to  find  something  inter 
esting  in  his  reminiscences ;  and  he  watched  Mrs. 
Wyndham  as  she  filled  a  cup.  He  was  not  the 
least  anxious  to  talk,  it  seemed,  and  he  had  an  air 
of  being  thoroughly  at  home. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  11 

"  You  were  in  England  most  of  the  time,  were 
you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  I  believe  I  was.  Oh,  by  the  bye,  I 
met  Harrington  in  Paris ;  I  thought  he  meant  to 
stay  at  home." 

"  He  often  goes  abroad,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham 
indifferently.  "  One  lump  of  sugar  ?  " 

"  Two,  if  you  please  —  no  cream  —  thanks. 
Does  he  go  to  Paris  to  convert  the  French,  or  to 
glean  materials  for  converting  other  people  ?  "  in 
quired  Mr.  Vancouver  languidly. 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell  you,"  answered  the 
lady,  still  indifferently.  "  What  do  you  go  to 
<Paris  for  ?  " 

"  Principally  to  renew  my  acquaintance  with 
civilized  institutions  and  humanizing  influences. 
What  does  anybody  go  abroad  for  ?  " 

"You  always  talk  like  that  when  you  come 
home,  Mr.  Vancouver,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham. 
"  But  nevertheless  you  come  back  and  seem  to 
find  Boston  bearable.  It  is  not  such  a  bad  place 
after  all,  is  it?" 

"  If  it  were  not  for  half  a  dozen  people  here,  I 
would  never  come  back  at  all,"  said,  Mr.  Vancou 
ver.  "  But  then,  I  am  not  originally  one  of  you, 
and  I  suppose  that  makes  a  difference." 

"  And  pray,  who  are  the  half  dozen  people  who 
procure  us  the  honor  of  your  presence  ?  " 

"  You  are  one  of  them,  Mrs.  Wyndham,"  he  an 
swered,  looking  at  her. 

"  I  am  much  obliged,"  she  replied,  demurely. 
"  An*  one  else  ?  " 


12  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Oh  —  John  Harrington,"  said  Vancouver  with 
a  little  laugh. 

"  Really  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  innocently ; 
44 1  did  not  know  you  were  such  good  friends." 

Mr.  Vancouver  sipped  his  tea  in  silence  for  a 
moment  and  stared  at  the  fire. 

"  I  have  a  great  respect  for  Harrington,''  he 
said  at  last.  "  He  interests  me  very  much,  and  I 
like  to  meet  him."  He  spoke  seriously,  as  though 
thoroughly  in  earnest.  The  faintest  look  of  amuse 
ment  came  to  Mrs.  Wyndham's  face  for  a  moment. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  she  said ;  "  Mr.  Harring 
ton  is  a  very  good  friend  of  mine.  Do  you  mind 
lighting  those  candles  ?  The  days  are  dreadfully 
short." 

Pocock  Vancouver  rose  with  alacrity  and  per 
formed  the  service  required. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  watching 
him,  "  I  have  a  surprise  for  you." 

44  Indeed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  an  immense  surprise.  Do  you  remember 
Sybil  Brandon  ?  " 

"  Charlie  Brandon's  daughter  ?  Very  well  — 
saw  her  at  Newport  some  time  ago.  Lily-white 
style  —  all  eyes  and  hair." 

"  You  ought  to  remember  her.  You  used  to 
rave  about  her,  and  you  nearly  ruined  yourself 
in  roses.  You  will  have  another  chance;  she  is 
going  to  spend  the  winter  with  me." 

"Not  really?"  ejaculated  Mr.  Vancouver,  in 
some  surprise,  as  he  again  sat  down  upon  the  sofa. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  13 

"  Yes ;  you  know  she  is  all  alone  in  the  world 
now." 

"  What  ?     Is  her  mother  dead  too  ?  " 

"  She  died  last  spring,  in  Paris.  I  thought  you 
knew." 

"  No,"  said  Vancouver,  thoughtfully.  "  How 
awfully  sad ! " 

"  Poor  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham ;  "  I  thought 
it  would  do  her  good  to  be  among  live  people, 
even  if  she  does  not  go  out." 

"  When  is  she  coming?  "  There  was  a  show  of 
interest  about  the  question. 

"  She  is  here  now,"  answered  Mrs.  Sam. 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  Vancouver.  "  May  I  have 
another  cup  ?  "  His  hostess  began  the  usual  series 
of  operations  necessary  to  produce  a  second  cup  of 
tea. 

"  Mrs.  Wyndham,"  began  Vancouver  again 
after  a  pause,  "  I  have  an  idea  —  do  not  laugh,  it 
is  a  very  good  one,  I  am  sure." 

"  I  am  not  laughing." 

"  Why  not  marry  Sibyl  Brandon  to  John  Har 
rington  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wyndham  stared  for  a  moment. 

"  How  perfectly  ridiculous  !  "  she  cried  at  last. 

"Why?" 

"  They  would  starve,  to  begin  with." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  Vancouver. 

"  Why,  I  am  sure  Mr.  Harrington  never  had 
more  than  five  thousand  a  year  in  his  life.  You 
could  not  marry  on  that,  you  know — possibly." 


14  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  No ;  but  Miss  Brandon  is  very  well  off  —  rich, 
in  fact." 

" 1  thought  she  had  nothing." 

"  She  must  have  thirty  or  forty  thousand  a  year 
from  her  mother,  at  the  least.  You  know  Charlie 
never  did  anything  in  his  life ;  he  lived  on  his 
wife's  money,  and  Miss  Brandon  must  have  it 
all." 

Mrs.  Wyndham  did  not  appear  surprised  at  the 
information;  she  hardly  seemed  to  think  it  of 
any  importance. 

"  I  knew  she  had  something,"  she  repeated ; 
"  but  I  am  glad  if  you  are  right.  But  that  does 
not  make  it  any  more  feasible  to  marry  her  to  Mr. 
Harrington." 

"  I  thought  that  starvation  was  your  objection," 
said  Vancouver. 

"  Oh,  no ;  not  that  only.  Besides,  he  would  not 
marry  her." 

"  He  would  be  very  foolish  not  to,  if  he  had  the 
chance,"  remarked  Vancouver. 

"  Perhaps  he  might  not  even  have  the  chance  — 
perhaps  she  would  not  marry  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Wyndham,  thoughtfully.  "  Besides,  I  do  not 
think  John  Harrington  ought  to  marry  yet;  he 
has  other  things  to  do." 

Mr.  Vancouver  seemed  about  to  say  something 
in  answer,  but  he  checked  himself ;  possibly  he 
did  not  speak  because  he  saw  some  one  enter  the 
room  at  that  moment,  and  was  willing  to  leave  the 
discussion  of  John  Harrington  to  a  future  time. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  15 

In  fact,  the  person  who  entered  the  room  should 
have  been  the  very  last  to  hear  the  conversation 
that  was  taking  place,  for  it  was  Miss  Brandon 
herself,  though  Mr.  Vancouver  had  not  recognized 
her  at  once. 

There  were  greetings  and  hand-shakings,  and 
then  Miss  Brandon  sat  down  by  the  fire  and 
spread  out  her  hands  as  though  to  warm  them. 
She  looked  white  and  cold. 

There  are  women  in  the  world,  both  young  and 
old,  who  seem  to  move  among  us  like  visions  from 
another  world,  a  world  that  is  purer  and  fairer, 
and  more  heavenly  than  this  one  in  which  the  rest 
*of  us  move.  It  is  hard  to  say  what  such  women 
have  that  marks  them  so  distinctly ;  sometimes  it 
is  beauty,  sometimes  only  a  manner,  often  it  is 
both.  It  is  very  certain  that  we  know  and  feel 
their  influence,  and  that  many  men  fear  it  as  some 
thing  strange  and  contrary  to  the  common  order 
of  things,  a  living  reproach  and  protest  against  all 
that  is  base  and  earthly  and  badly  human. 

Most  people  would  have  said  first  of  Sybil 
Brandon  that  she  was  cold,  and  many  would  have 
added  that  she  was  beautiful.  Ill-natured  people 
sometimes  said  she  was  deathly.  No  one  ever 
said  she  was  pretty.  Vancouver's  description  — 
lily-white,  all  eyes  and  hair  —  certainly  struck  the 
principal  facts  of  her  appearance,  for  her  skin  was 
whiter  than  is  commonly  natural,  her  eyes  were 
very  deep  and  large  and  blue,  and  her  soft  brown 
hair  seemed  to  be  almost  a  burden  to  her  from  its 


16  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

great  quantity.  She  was  dressed  entirely  in  black, 
and  being  rather  tall  and  very  slight  of  figure,  the 
dress  somewhat  exaggerated  the  ethereal  look  that 
was  natural  to  her.  She  seemed  cold,  and  spread 
out  her  delicate  hands  to  the  bright  flame  of  the 
blazing  wood-fire.  Mrs.  Wyndham  and  Pocock 
Vancouver  looked  at  her  in  silence  for  a  moment. 
Then  Mrs.  Wyndham  rose  with  a  cup  of  tea  in 
her  hand,  and  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the 
fireplace  where  Sybil  was  sitting  and  offered  it  to 
her. 

"  Poor  Sybil,  you  are  so  cold.  Drink  some  tea." 
The  elder  woman  sat  down  by  the  young  girl,  and 
lightly  kissed  her  cheek.  "  You  must  not  be  sad, 
darling,"  she  whispered  sympathetically. 

"  I  am  not  sad  at  all,  really,"  answered  Miss 
Brandon  aloud,  quite  naturally,  but  pressing  Mrs. 
Wyndham's  hand  a  little,  as  though  in  acknowl 
edgment  of  her  sympathy. 

"  No  one  can  be  sad  in  Boston,"  said  Vancouver, 
putting  in  a  word.  "  Our  city  is  altogether  too 
wildly  gay."  He  laughed  a  little. 

"  You  must  not  make  fun  of  us  to  visitors,  Mr. 
Vancouver,"  answered  Mrs.  Wyndham,  still  hold 
ing  Sybil's  hand. 

"  It  is  Mr.  Vancouver's  ruling  passion,  though 
he  never  acknowledges  it,"  said  Miss  Brandon, 
calmly.  "  I  remember  it  of  old." 

"  I  am  flattered  at  being  remembered,"  said 
Mr.  Vancouver,  whose  delicate  features  betrayed 
neither  pleasure  nor  interest,  however.  "  But,"  he 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  17 

continued,  "  I  am  not  particularly  flattered  at  be 
ing  called  a  scoffer  at  my  own  people  "  — 

"  I  did  not  say  that,"  interrupted  Miss  Brandon. 

"  Well,  you  said  my  ruling  passion  was  making 
fun  of  Boston  to  visitors ;  at  least,  you  and  Mrs. 
Wyndham  said  it  between  you.  I  really  never  do 
that,  unless  I  give  the  other  side  of  the  question  as 
well." 

"  What  other  side  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Sam,  who 
wanted  to  make  conversation. 

"  Boston,"  said  Vancouver  with  some  solemnity. 
"  It  is  not  more  often  ridiculous  than  other  great 
institutions." 

*  "  You  simply  take  one's  breath  away,  Mr.  Van 
couver,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  with  a  good  deal  of 
emphasis.  "  The  idea  of  calling  Boston  '  an  insti 
tution  ! ' " 

"  Why,  certainly.  The  United  States  are  only 
an  institution  after  all.  You  could  not  soberly 
call  us  a  nation.  Even  you  could  not  reasonably 
be  moved  to  fine  patriotic  phrases  about  your  na 
tive  country,  if  your  ancestors  had  signed  twenty 
Declarations  of  Independence.  We  live  in  a  great 
institution,  and  we  have  every  right  to  flatter  our 
selves  on  the  success  of  its  management ;  but  in 
the  long  run  this  thing  will  not  do  for  a  nation." 

Miss  Brandon  looked  at  Vancouver  with  a  sort 
of  calm  incredulity.  Mrs.  Wyndham  always  quar 
reled  with  him  on  points  like  the  one  now  raised, 
and  accordingly  took  up  the  cudgels. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  congratulate  yourself 


18  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

on  the  management  of  your  institution,  as  you  call 
it,  when  you  know  very  well  you  would  rather  die 
than  have  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"Very  true.  But  then,  you  always  say  that 
gentlemen  should  not  touch  anything  so  dirty  as 
politics,  Mrs.  Wyndham,"  retorted  Vancouver. 

"  Well,  that  just  shows  that  it  is  not  an  institu 
tion  at  all,  and  that  you  are  quite  wrong,  and  that 
we  are  a  great  nation  supported  and  carried  on  by 
real  patriotism." 

"  And  the  Irish  and  German  votes,"  added  Van 
couver,  with  that  scorn  which  only  the  true  son  of 
freedom  can  exhibit  in  speaking  of  his  fellow-citi 
zens. 

"  Oh,  the  Irish  vote  !  That  is  always  the  last 
word  in  the  argument,"  answered  Mrs.  Sam. 

"  I  do  not  see  exactly  what  the  Irish  have  to  do 
with  it,"  remarked  Miss  Brandon,  innocently.  She 
did  not  understand  politics. 

Vancouver  glanced  at  the  clock  and  took  his 
hat. 

"  It  is  very  simple,"  he  said,  rising  to  go.  "  It 
is  the  bull  in  the  china  shop  —  the  Irish  bull 
amongst  the  American  china  —  dangerous,  you 
know.  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Wyndham ;  good 
evening,  Miss  Brandon."  And  he  took  his  leave. 
Miss  Brandon  watched  his  slim  figure  disappear 
through  the  heavy  curtains  of  the  door. 

"  He  has  not  changed  much  since  I  knew  him," 
she  said,  turning  again  to  the  fire.  "  I  used  to 
think  he  was  clever." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  19 

"  And  have  you  changed  your  mind  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Wyndham,  laughing. 

"  Not  quite,  but  I  begin  to  doubt.  He  has 
very  good  manners,  and  looks  altogether  like  a 
gentleman." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham.  "  His 
mother  was  a  Shaw,  although  his  father  came 
from  South  Carolina.  But  he  is  really  very 
bright ;  Sam  always  says  he  is  one  of  the  ablest 
men  in  Boston." 

"  In  what  way  ?  "  inquired  Sybil. 

"  Oh,  he  is  a  lawyer,  don't  you  know  ?  —  great 
jailroad  man." 

"  Oh,"  ejaculated  Miss  Brandon,  and  relapsed 
into  silence. 

Mrs.  Wyndham  rose  and  stood  before  the  fire, 
and  pushed  a  log  back  with  her  small  foot.  Miss 
Brandon  watched  her,  half  wondering  whether  the 
flames  would  not  catch  her  dress. 

"  I  have  been  to  see  that  Miss  Thorn,"  said 
Sybil  presently. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sam,  with  sudden  inter 
est,  "  tell  me  all  about  her  this  minute,  dear.  Is 
not  she  the  most  extraordinary  creature  ?  " 

"  I  rather  like  her,"  answered  Miss  Brandon. 
"  She  is  very  pretty." 

"  What  style  ?     Dark  ?  " 

"  No ;  not  exactly.  Brown  hair,  and  lots  of 
eyebrows.  She  is  a  little  thing,  but  very  much 
alive,  you  know." 

"  Awfully  English,  of  course,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Sam. 


20  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Well  —  yes,  I  suppose  so.  She  is  wild  about 
horses,  and  says  she  shoots.  But  I  like  her  —  I 
am  sure  I  shall  like  her  very  much.  She  does  not 
seem  very  pleased  with  her  aunt." 

"  I  do  not  wonder,"  said  Mrs.  Sam.  "  Poor 
little  thing  —  she  has  nobody  else  belonging  to 
her,  has  she  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Sybil,  with  a  little  tremor 
in  her  voice  ;  "  she  has  a  mother  in  England." 

"  I  want  to  see  her  ever  so  much,"  said  Mrs. 
Sam.  "  Bring  her  to  luncheon." 

"  You  will  see  her  to-night,  I  think ;  she  said 
she  was  going  to  that  party." 

"  I  hate  to  leave  you  alone,"  said  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham.  "  I  really  think  I  had  better  not  go." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Wyndham,"  said  Sybil,  rising,  and 
laying  her  hands  on  her  hostess's  shoulders,  half 
affectionately,  half  in  protest,  "  this  idea  must  be 
stopped  from  the  first,  and  I  mean  to  stop  it.  You 
are  not  to  give  up  any  party,  or  any  society,  or 
anything  at  all  for  me.  If  you  do  I  will  go  away 
again.  Promise  me,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  dear.  But  you  know  you  are  the 
dearest  girl  in  the  world."  And  so  they  kissed,  and 
agreed  that  Mrs.  Wyndham  should  go  out,  and 
that  Sybil  should  stay  at  home. 

Mrs.  Wyndham  was  really  a  very  kind-hearted 
woman  and  a  loving  friend.  That  might  be  the 
reason  why  she  was  never  popular.  Popularity  is 
a  curious  combination  of  friendliness  and  indiffer 
ence,  but  very  popular  people  rarely  have  devoted 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  21 

friends,  and  still  more  rarely  suffer  great  passions. 
Everybody  s  friend  is  far  too  apt  to  be  nobody's,  for 
it  is  impossible  to  rely  on  the  support  of  a  person 
whose  devotion  is  liable  to  be  called  upon  a  hun 
dred  times  a  day,  from  a  hundred  different  quar 
ters.  The  friendships  that  mean  anything  mean 
sacrifice  for  friendship's  sake  ;  and  a  man  or  a 
woman  really  ready  to  make  sacrifices  for  a  consid 
erable  number  of  people  is  likely  to  be  asked  to  do 
it  very  often,  and  to  be  soon  spent  in  the  effort  to 
be  true  to  every  one. 

But  popularity  makes  no  great  demands.  The 
papular  man  is  known  to  be  so  busy  in  being  pop- 
alar  that  his  offenses  of  omission  are  readily  par 
doned.  His  engagements  are  legion,  his  obligations 
are  innumerable,  and  far  more  than  he  can  fulfil. 
But,  meet  him  when  you  will,  his  smile  is  as  bright, 
his  greeting  as  cordial,  and  his  sayings  as  univer 
sally  good-natured  and  satisfactory  as  ever.  He 
has  acquired  the  habit  of  pleasing,  and  it  is  almost 
impossible  for  him  to  displease.  He  enjoys  it  all, 
is  agreeable  to  every  one,  and  is  never  expected  to 
catch  cold  in  attending  a  friend's  funeral,  or  other 
wise  to  sacrifice  his  comfort,  because  he  is  quite 
certain  to  have  important  engagements  elsewhere, 
in  which  the  world  always  believes.  There  is  prob 
ably  no  individual  more  absolutely  free  and  un- 
trammeled  than  the  thoroughly  popular  man. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FATE,  the  artist,  mixes  her  own  colors.  She 
grinds  them  with  a  pestle  in  the  fashion  of  the  old 
masters,  and  out  of  the  most  strange  pigments  she 
produces  often  only  soft  neutral  tints  for  back 
ground  and  shadow,  kneading  a  vast  deal  of  bright 
colors  away  among  the  grays  and  browns  ;  but  now 
and  then  she  takes  a  palette  loaded  with  strong 
paint,  and  a  great  brush,  and  splashes  a  startling 
full  length  portrait  upon  the  canvas,  without  much 
regard  for  drawing  or  general  composition,  but 
with  very  startling  effect.  To  paint  well  needs 
life-long  study ;  to  paint  so  as  merely  to  attract 
attention  needs  courage  and  a  heart  hardened 
against  artistic  sensitiveness. 

John  Harrington  was  a  high  light  against  the 
mezzotint  of  his  surroundings.  He  was  a  constant 
source  of  interest,  and  not  infrequently  of  terror, 
to  the  good  town  of  Boston.  True,  he  was  a  Bos- 
tonian  himself,  a  chip  of  the  old  block,  whose  pro 
genitors  had  lived  in  Salem,  and  whose  very  name 
breathed  Pilgrim  memories.  He  even  had  a  tea 
pot  that  had  come  over  in  the  Mayflower.  This 
was  greatly  venerated,  and  whenever  John  Har 
rington  said  anything  more  than  usually  modern, 
his  friends  brandished  the  teapot,  morally  speak- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  23 

ing,  in  his  defense,  and  put  it  in  the  clouds  as  a 
kind  of  rainbow  —  a  promise  that  Puritan  blood 
could  not  go  wrong.  Nevertheless,  John  Harring 
ton  continued  to  startle  his  fellow-townsmen  by  his 
writings  and  sayings,  so  that  many  of  the  grave 
sort  shook  their  heads  and  swore  that  he  sym 
pathized  with  the  Irish  and  believed  in  Chinese 
labor. 

As  a  matter-of-fact,  he  did  not  mince  matters. 
Endowed  with  unbounded  courage  and  an  extraor 
dinary  command  of  language,  when  he  got  upon 
his  feet  he  spoke  his  mind  in  a  way  that  was  good 
to  hear.  Moreover,  he  had  the  strong  oratorical 
temperament  that  forces  attention  and  commands 
men  in  a  body.  He  said  that  things  were  wrong 
and  should  be  put  right ;  and  when  he  had  said  so 
for  half  an  hour  to  a  couple  of  thousand  people, 
most  of  them  were  ready  to  follow  him  out  of  the 
hall  and  go  and  put  things  right  on  the  spot,  with 
their  own  hands.  As  yet  the  opportunity  had  not 
offered  for  proceeding  in  so  simple  a  manner,  but 
the  aforesaid  Bostonians  of  the  graver  sort  said 
that  John  Harrington  would  some  day  be  seen 
heading  a  desperate  mob  of  socialists  in  an  assault 
upon  the  State  House.  What  he  had  to  do  with 
socialism,  or  to  what  end  he  should  thus  fiercely 
invade  the  headquarters  of  all  earthly  respectabil 
ity,  was  not  exactly  apparent,  but  the  picture  thus 
evoked  in  the  minds  of  the  solemn  burghers  satis 
factorily  defined  for  them  the  personality  of  the 
man,  and  they  said  it  and  said  it  again. 


24  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

It  was  somewhat  remarkable  that  he  had  never 
been  called  clever.  At  first  he  was  regarded  as  a 
fool  by  most  of  his  own  class,  though  he  always 
had  friends  who  believed  in  him.  By  and  by,  as 
it  came  to  be  seen  that  he  had  a  purpose  and 
would  be  listened  to  while  he  stated  it,  Boston  said 
there  was  something  in  him ;  but  he  was  never  said 
to  be  clever  or  "  bright "  —  he  was  John  Harring 
ton,  neither  more  nor  less.  He  was  never  even 
caUed  "  Jack." 

He  was  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Wyndham's  ;  her  keen 
instincts  had  long  ago  recognized  the  true  metal  in 
the  man,  and  of  all  who  came  and  went  in  her 
house  there  was  none  more  welcome  than  he.  Sam 
Wyndham  utterly  disagreed  with  him  in  politics, 
but  always  defended  him  in  private,  saying  that  he 
would  "  calm  down  a  lot  when  he  got  older,"  and 
that  meanwhile  he  was  "  a  very  good  fellow  if  you 
did  not  stir  him  up." 

He  was  therefore  very  intimate  at  the  Sam 
Wyndham  establishment ;  in  fact,  at  the  very  hour 
when  Pocock  Vancouver  was  drinking  Mrs.  Sam's 
tea,  John  had  intended  to  be  enjoying  the  same 
privilege.  Unfortunately  for  his  intention  he  was 
caught  elsewhere  and  could  not  get  away.  He  was 
drinking  tea,  it  is  true,  but  the  position  in  which 
he  found  himself  was  not  entirely  to  his  taste. 

Old  Miss  Schenectady,  whose  niece,  Miss  Jose 
phine  Thorn,  had  lately  come  over  from  England  to 
pass  the  winter,  had  asked  John  Harrington  to  call 
that  afternoon.  The  old  lady  believed  in  John  on 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  25 

account  of  the  Mayflower  teapot,  and  consequently 
thought  him  a  desirable  acquaintance  for  her  niece. 
Accordingly,  John  went  to  the  house,  and  met 
Miss  Sybil  Brandon  just  as  she  was  leaving  it ; 
which  he  regretted,  suspecting  that  her  society 
would  have  been  more  interesting  than  that  of 
Miss  Thorn.  As  it  turned  out,  he  was  right,  for 
his  first  impression  of  the  young  English  girl  was 
not  altogether  agreeable  ;  and  he  found  himself 
obliged  to  stay  and  talk  to  her  until  an  ancient 
lady,  who  had  come  to  gossip  with  Miss  Schenec- 
tady,  and  was  fully  carrying  out  her  intentions, 
should  go  away  and  make  it  possible  for  him  to 
tftke  his  leave  without  absolutely  abandoning  Miss 
Thorn  in  the  corner  of  the  room  she  had  selected 
for  the  tete-a-tete. 

"  All  that,  of  course,  you  know,"  said  Miss 
Thorn,  in  answer  to  some  remark  of  John's,  "  but 
what  sort  of  things  do  you  really  care  for  ?  " 

"  People,"  answered  John  without  hesitation. 

"  Of  course,"  returned  his  companion,  "  every 
body  likes  people.  It  is  not  very  original.  One 
could  not  live  without  lots  of  society,  could  one  ?  " 

"  That  depends  on  the  meaning  of  society." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  in  the  least  learned  about  mean 
ings,"  answered  Miss  Thorn.  "  I  mean  what  one 
means  by  society,  you  know.  Heaps  of  men  and 
women,  and  tea-parties,  and  staying  in  the  country, 
and  that." 

"  That  is  a  sketch  indeed,"  said  John,  laughing. 
"  But  then  it  is  rather  different  here.  We  do  not 


26  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

relapse  into  the  country  as  you  do  in  England,  and 
then  come  back  to  town  like  lions  refreshed  with 
sleep." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  once  in  society  here  one  is  always  in  it. 
At  least,  most  people  are.  As  soon  as  heat  begins 
Boston  goes  to  New  York ;  and  by-and-by  New 
York  goes  to  Saratoga,  and  takes  Boston  with  it ; 
and  then  all  three  go  to  Newport,  and  the  thing 
begins  again,  until  there  is  a  general  rush  to  Len 
ox,  to  see  the  glories  of  the  autumn ;  and  by  the 
time  the  glories  are  getting  a  little  thin  it  is  time 
to  be  in  Beacon  Street  again." 

"  But  when  do  people  shoot  and  ride  ?  —  do  they 
ever  hunt  ?  "  asked  Miss  Thorn,  opening  her  wide 
brown  eyes  in  some  astonishment  at  John  Har 
rington's  description  of  society  life  in  America. 

"  Oh  yes,  they  hunt  at  Newport  with  a  drag  and 
a  bagged  fox.  They  do  it  in  July  and  August, 
when  it  is  as  hot  as  it  can  be,  and  the  farmers  turn 
out  with  pitchforks  and  stones  to  warn  them  off 
the  growing  crops." 

"  How  ridiculous !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Josephine. 

"  It  is  absurd,  of  course,"  said  Harrington,  "  and 
cruel.  But  I  must  say  they  ride  as  though  there 
were  no  hereafter,  and  it  is  a  stiff  country." 

"  They  must,  I  should  think  ;  no  one  who  be 
lieved  in  a  hereafter  would  hunt  in  summer." 

"  I  will  wager  that  if  you  go  to  Newport  this 
summer  you  will  hunt,  just  like  everybody  else," 
paid  John  boldly. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  27 

Josephine  Thorn  knew  in  her  heart  that  it  was 
true,  but  she  did  not  like  the  tone  in  which  John 
said  it.  There  was  an  air  of  certainty  about  his 
way  of  talking  that  roused  her  opposition. 

"  I  would  do  nothing  so  foolish,"  said  she.  "  You 
do  not  know  me.  And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
that  you  like  these  people  who  rush  madly  about 
the  country  and  hunt  in  summer,  and  those  sort 
of  things  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  John,  "  not  always." 

"  But  you  said  you  liked  people.  How  awfully 
inconsistent  you  are  !  " 

"  Excuse  me,  I  think  not.  I  meant  that  I  liked 
ppople  and  having  to  do  with  them  —  with  men 
and  women  —  better  than  I  like  things." 

"  What  are  '  things  '  ?  "  inquired  Josephine, 
sarcastically.  "  You  are  not  very  clear  in  your  way 
of  expressing  yourself." 

"  I  will  be  as  clear  as  you  please,"  answered 
John,  looking  across  the  room  at  Miss  Schenectady 
and  her  ancient  friend,  and  devoutly  wishing  he 
could  get  away.  "  I  mean  by  '  things  '  the  study 
of  the  inanimate  part  of  creation,  of  such  sciences 
as  are  not  directly  connected  with  man's  thoughts 
and  actions,  and  such  pursuits  as  hunting,  shoot 
ing,  and  sporting  of  all  kinds,  which  lead  only  to 
the  amusement  of  the  individual.  I  mean  also 
the  production  of  literature  for  literature's  sake, 
and  of  works  of  art  for  the  mere  sake  of  them 
selves.  When  I  say  I  like  '  people,'  I  mean  men 
and  women,  their  opinions  and  their  relations  to 
each  other." 


28  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"I  should  think  you  would  get  very  tired  of 
them,"  said  Miss  Thorn  scornfully.  "  They  are 
ail  dreadfully  alike." 

She  never  forgot  the  look  Harrington  turned 
upon  her  as  he  answered.  His  calm,  deep-set  gray 
eyes  gazed  steadily  at  her,  and  his  square  fea 
tures  assumed  an  air  of  gravity  that  almost  star 
tled  her. 

"  1  am  never  tired  of  men  and  women,"  he  said. 
"Has  it  ever  struck  you,  Miss  Thorn,  that  the 
study  of  men  and  women  means  the  study  of  gov 
ernment,  and  that  a  knowledge  of  men  and  women 
may  give  the  power  to  influence  the  destiny  or 
mankind  ?  " 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  like  that,"  said  Josepnine, 
very  quietly.  She  was  surprised  at  his  manner, 
and  she  suddenly  felt  that  he  was  no  ordinary 
man. 

To  tell  the  truth,  her  aunt  had  mfoimed  her 
that  John  Harrington  was  coming  tha  Afternoon, 
and  had  told  her  he  was  an  exceeding  y  able  man, 
a  statement  which  at  once  roused  •'  Dsephine's  op 
position  to  its  fiercest  pitch.  She  liioroughiy  hated 
to  be  warned  about  people,  to  be  grimed  as  it  were 
with  a  dose  of  their  superiority  beforehand.  It 
always  prepared  her  to  dislike  the  admirable  indi 
vidual  when  he  appeared.  It  seemed  as  though  it 
were  taken  for  granted  that  she  herself  had  not 
enough  intelligence  to  discover  wit  in  others,  and 
needed  to  be  told  of  it  with  great  circumstance  in 
order  to  be  apon  her  good  behavior.  Consequently 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  29 

Josephine  began  by  disliking  John.  She  thought 
he  was  a  Philistine  ;  his  hair  was  too  straight,  and 
besides,  it  was  red ;  he  shaved  all  his  face,  whereas 
the  men  she  liked  always  had  beards ;  she  liked 
men  with  black  eyes,  or  blue  —  John's  were  gray 
and  hard ;  he  spoke  quietly,  without  expression, 
and  she  liked  men  who  were  enthusiastic.  After 
all,  too,  the  things  he  said  were  not  very  clever ; 
anybody  could  have  said  them. 

She  meant  to  show  her  Boston  aunt  that  she  had 
no  intention  of  accepting  Boston  genius  on  faith. 
It  was  not  her  way  ;  she  liked  to  find  out  for  her 
self  whether  people  were  able  or  not,  without  be 
ing  told,  and  if  she  ascertained  that  John  Har 
rington  enjoyed  a  fictitious  reputation  for  genius  it 
would  amuse  her  to  destroy  it  —  or  at  all  events  to 
write  a  long  letter  home  to  a  friend,  expressing  her 
supreme  opinion  on  that  and  other  matters. 

John,  on  his  part,  did  not  very  much  care  what 
impression  he  produced.  He  never  did  on  such 
occasions,  and  just  now  he  was  rendered  doubly 
indifferent  by  the  fact  that  he  was  wishing  himself 
somewhere  else.  True,  there  was  a  certain  novelty 
in  being  asked  point-blank  questions  about  his 
tastes.  Boston  people  knew  what  he  liked,  and 
generally  only  asked  him  about  what  he  did.  Per 
haps,  if  he  had  met  Josephine  by  daylight,  instead 
of  in  the  dim  shadows  of  Miss  Schenectady's  front 
drawing-room,  he  might  have  been  struck  by  her 
appearance  and  interested  by  her  manner.  As  it 
was,  he  was  merely  endeavoring  to  get  through  his 


30  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

visit  with  a  proper  amount  of  civility,  in  the  hope 
that  he  might  get  away  in  time  to  see  Mrs.  Sam 
Wyndham  before  dinner. 

Josephine  thought  John  dull,  probably  well  in 
formed,  and  utterly  without  interest  in  anything. 
She  felt  inclined  to  do  something  desperate  —  to 
throw  the  cushions  at  him,  to  do  anything,  in  short, 
to  rouse  him  from  his  calmness.  Then  he  made 
that  remark  about  government,  and  his  voice  deep 
ened,  and  his  gray  eyes  shone,  and  she  was  aware 
that  he  had  a  great  and  absorbing  interest  in  life, 
and  that  he  could  be  roused  in  one  direction  at 
least.  To  do  her  justice,  she  had  quick  percep 
tions,  and  the  impression  on  her  mind  was  instan 
taneous. 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  like  that,"  she  said. 
"  Do  you  know  ?  "  she  added  in  a  moment,  "  I 
should  not  have  thought  you  took  much  interest  in 
anything  at  all." 

John  laughed.  He  was  amused  at  the  idea  that 
he,  who  knew  himself  to  be  one  of  the  most  en 
thusiastic  of  mortals,  should  be  thought  indiffer 
ent  ;  and  he  was  amused  at  the  outspoken  frank 
ness  of  the  girl's  remark. 

"  You  know  that  is  just  like  me,"  continued 
Miss  Thorn  quickly.  "  I  always  say  what  I  think, 
you  know.  I  cannot  help  it  a  bit." 

"  What  a  pity  all  the  world  is  not  like  you  ! " 
said  John.  "  It  would  save  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
I  am  sure." 

"The  frump  is  going  at  last,"  said  Josephine, 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  31 

in  an  undertone,  as  the  ancient  friend  rose  and 
showed  signs  of  taking  leave  of  Miss  Schenectady. 

"There  is  certainly  no  mistake  about  the  frank 
ness  of  that  speech,"  said  John,  rising  to  his  feet 
and  laughing  again. 

"There  is  no  mistaking  its  truth,"  answered 
Josephine.  "  She  is  the  real  thing  —  the  real 
old-fashioned  frump — we  have  lots  of  them  at 
home." 

"  You  remind  me  of  Heine,"  said  John.  "  He 
said  he  called  a  spade  a  spade,  and  Ilerr  Schmidt 
an  ass." 

Miss  Thorn  laughed. 

*  "  Exactly,"  she  answered,  "  that  is  the  knowl 
edge  of  men  which  you  say  leads  to  power."  She 
rose  also,  and  there  was  a  little  stir  as  the  old  lady 
departed.  Josephine  watched  John  as  he  bowed 
and  opened  the  door  of  the  room  to  let  the  visitor 
out.  She  wondered  vaguely  whether  she  would  like 
him,  whether  he  might  not  really  be  a  remarkable 
man — a  fact  she  doubted  in  proportion  as  her 
aunt  assured  her  of  its  truth ;  she  liked  his  looks 
and  tried  to  determine  whether  he  was  handsome 
or  not,  and  she  watched  closely  for  any  awkward 
ness  or  shyness  of  manner,  that  being  the  fault  in 
a  man  which  she  never  pardoned. 

He  was  very  different  from  the  men  she  had 
generally  known,  and  most  completely  different 
from  those  she  had  known  as  her  admirers.  In 
fact  she  had  never  admired  her  admirers  at  all,  — 
except  dear  Ronald,  of  course.  They  competed 


32  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

with  her  on  her  own  ground,  and  she  knew  well 
enough  she  was  more  than  a  match  for  any  of 
them.  Ronald  was  different ;  she  had  known  him 
all  her  life.  But  all  those  other  men !  They 
could  ride  —  but  she  rode  as  well,  or  better.  They 
could  shoot,  but  so  could  she,  and  allowing  for  the 
disadvantages  of  a  woman  in  field  sports,  she  was 
as  good  a  shot  as  they.  She  knew  she  could  do 
anything  they  could  do,  and  understood  most 
things  they  understood.  All  in  all,  she  did  not 
care  for  the  average  young  Englishman.  He  was 
great  fun  in  his  own  way,  but  there  were  probably 
more  interesting  things  in  the  world  than  pheas 
ants  and  fences.  Politics  would  be  interesting, 
she  thought ;  she  had  known  three  or  four  men 
who  were  young  and  already  prominent  in  Parlia 
ment,  and  they  were  undeniably  interesting  ;  but 
they  were  generally  either  ugly  or  clumsy,  —  the 
unpardonable  sin,  —  or  perhaps  they  were  vain. 
Josephine  could  not  bear  vain  men.  John  Harring 
ton  probably  had  some  one  or  more  of  these  de 
fects.  He  was  certainly  no  "  beauty  man,"  to  begin 
with,  nevertheless,  she  wondered  whether  he  might 
not  be  called  handsome  by  stretching  a  point.  She 
rather  hoped,  inwardly  and  unconsciously,  that  her 
ultimate  judgment  would  decide  in  favor  of  his 
good  looks.  She  always  judged ;  it  was  the  first 
thing  she  did,  and  she  was  surprised,  on  the  pres 
ent  occasion,  to  find  her  judgment  so  slow.  Peo 
ple  who  pride  themselves  on  being  critical  are 
often  annoyed  when  they  find  themselves  uncer- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  33 

tain  of  their  own  opinion.  As  for  his  accomplish 
ments,  they  were  doubtful,  to  say  the  least.  Miss 
Thorn  was  not  used  to  considering  American  men 
as  manly.  She  had  read  a  great  many  books 
which  made  game  of  them,  and  showed  how  un 
used  they  were  to  all  those  good  things  which  make 
up  the  life  of  an  English  country  gentleman;  she 
had  met  one  or  two  Americans  who  turned  up  their 
noses  in  impotent  scorn  of  all  field  sports  except 
horse-racing,  which  they  regarded  from  a  financial 
point  of  view.  Probably  John  Harrington  had 
never  killed  a  pheasant  in  his  life.  Lastly,  he 
might  be  vain.  A  man  with  such  a  reputation  for 
ability  would  most  likely  be  conceited. 

And  yet,  despite  probability,  she  could  not  help 
thinking  John  interesting.  That  one  speech  of 
his  about  government  had  meant  something.  He 
was  a  man  with  a  strong  personality,  with  a  great 
interest  in  the  world  led  by  a  dominant  aspiration 
of  some  sort ;  and  Josephine,  in  her  heart,  loved 
power  and  admired  those  who  possessed  it.  Polit 
ical  power  especially  had  that  charm  for  her  which 
it  has  for  most  English  people  of  the  upper  class. 
There  is  some  quality  in  the  English  race  which 
breeds  an  inordinate  admiration  for  all  kinds  of 
superiority :  it  is  certain  that  if  one  class  of  Eng 
lish  society  can  be  justly  accused  of  an  over-great 
veneration  for  rank,  the  class  which  is  rank  itself 
is  not  behindhand  in  doing  homage  to  the  political 
stars  of  the  day.  In  favor  of  this  peculiarity  of 
English  people  it  may  fairly  be  said  that  they  love 


34  AN  A*  '^RICAN  POLITICIAN. 

to  associate  with  persons  of  rank  and  power  from 
a  disinterested  love  of  those  things  themselves, 
whereas  in  most  other  countries  the  society  of  no 
ble  and  influential  persons  is  chiefly  sought  from 
the  most  cynical  motives  of  personal  advantage. 

Politics  —  that  is,  the  outward  and  appreciable 
manifestations  of  political  life  —  must  always  f nr* 
nish  abundant  food  for  the  curiosity  of  the  many 
and  the  intelligent  criticism  of  the  few.  There  is 
no  exception  to  that  rule,  be  the  state  great  or 
small.  But  politics  in  England  and  politics  in 
America,  so  far  as  the  main  points  are  concerned, 
are  as  different  as  it  is  possible  for  any  two  social 
functions  to  be.  Roughly,  Government  and  the 
doings  of  Government  are  centripetal  in  England, 
and  centrifugal  in  America.  In  England  the  will 
of  the  people  assists  the  workings  of  Providence, 
whereas  in  America  devout  persons  pray  that 
Providence  may  on  occasion  modify  the  will  of  the 
people.  In  England  men  believe  in  the  Queen, 
the  Royal  Family,  the  Established  Church,  and 
Belgravia  first,  and  in  themselves  afterwards. 
Americans  believe  in  themselves  devoutly,  and  a 
man  who  could  "  establish  "  upon  them  a  church, 
a  royalty,  or  a  peerage,  would  be  a  very  clever 
fellow. 

Josephine  Thorn  and  John  Harrington  were 
fair  examples  of  their  nationalities.  Josephine  be 
lieved  in  England  and  the  English ;  John  Har 
rington  believed  in  America  and  the  Americans. 
How  far  England  and  America  are  ever  likely  to 


AN  AMERICAN  POL     ^fCIAN.  35 

believe  in  each  other,  however,  is  a  question  of 
future  history  and  not  of  past  experience,  and  any 
reasonable  amount  of  doubt  may  be  cast  upon  the 
possibility  of  such  mutual  confidence. 

But  as  Josephine  stood  watching  John  Harring 
ton  while  he  opened  the  drawing-room  door  for  the 
visitor  to  go  out,  she  thought  of  none  of  these 
things.  She  certainly  did  not  consider  herself  a 
type  of  her  nation  —  a  distinction  to  which  few 
English  people  aspire  —  and  she  as  certainly  would 
have  denied  that  the  man  before  her  was  a  type  of 
the  modern  American. 

Jfcohn  remained  standing  when  the  lady  was 
gone. 

"  Do  sit  down,"  said  Miss  Schenectady,  settling 
herself  once  more  in  her  corner. 

"  Thank  you,  I  think  I  must  be  going  now," 
answered  John.  "  It  is  late."  As  he  spoke  he 
turned  toward  Miss  Thorn,  and  for  the  first  time 
saw  her  under  the  bright  light  of  the  old-fashioned 
gas  chandelier. 

The  young  girl  was  perhaps  not  what  is  called  a 
great  beauty,  but  she  was  undeniably  handsome, 
and  she  possessed  that  quality  which  often  goes 
with  quick  perceptions  and  great  activity,  and 
which  is  commonly  defined  by  the  expression 
"  striking."  Short,  rather  than  tall,  she  was  yet 
so  proportioned  between  strength  and  fineness  as 
to  be  very  graceful,  and  her  head  sat  proudly  on 
her  shoulders  —  too  proudly  sometimes,  for  she 
could  command  and  she  could  be  angry.  Her  wide 


36  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

brown  eyes  were  bright  and  fearless  and  honest. 
The  faint  color  came  and  went  under  the  clear 
skin  as  freely  as  the  heart  could  send  it,  and  though 
her  hair  was  brown  and  soft,  there  were  ruddy  tints 
among  the  coils,  that  flashed  out  unexpectedly  here 
and  there  like  threads  of  red  gold  twined  in  a  mass 
of  fine  silk. 

John  looked  at  her  in  some  astonishment,  for  in 
his  anxiety  to  be  gone  and  in  the  dimness  of  the 
corner  where  they  had  eat,  h"  had  not  realized  that 
Josephine  was  any  more  remarkable  in  her  appear 
ance  than  most  of  the  extremely  young  women  who 
annually  make  their  entrance  into  society,  with  the 
average  stock  of  pink  and  white  prettiness.  They 
call  them  "  buds  "  in  Boston  —  an  abbreviation 
for  rosebuds. 

Fresh  young  roses  of  each  opening  year,  fresh 
with  the  dew  of  heaven  and  the  blush  of  inno 
cence,  coming  up  in  this  wild  garden  of  a  world, 
what  would  the  gardener  do  without  you  ?  Where 
would  all  beauty  and  sweetness  be  found  among 
the  thorny  bushes  and  the  withering  old  shrubs 
and  the  rotting  weeds,  were  it  not  for  you  ?  Maid 
ens  with  clean  hands  and  pure  hearts,  in  whose 
touch  there  is  something  that  heals  the  ills  and 
soothes  the  pains  of  mortality,  roses  whose  petals 
are  yet  unspotted  by  dust  and  rain,  and  whose  di 
vine  perfume  the  hot  south  wind  has  not  scorched, 
nor  the  east  wind  nipped  and  frozen  —  you  are  the 
protest,  set  every  year  among  us,  against  the  rot 
tenness  of  the  world's  doings,  the  protest  of  the 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  37 

angelic  life  against  the  earthly,  of  the  eternal  good 
against  the  eternal  bad. 

John  Harrington  looked  at  Miss  Thorn,  and 
looked  at  her  with  pleasure,  for  he  saw  that  she 
was  fair  —  but  in  spite  of  her  newly  discovered 
beauty  he  resisted  Miss  Schenectady's  invitation 
to  sit  down  again,  and  departed.  Any  other  man 
would  have  stayed,  under  the  circumstances. 

"  Well,  Josephine,"  said  Miss  Schenectady, 
when  he  was  gone,  "now  you  have  seen  John  Har. 
rington." 

Josephine  looked  at  her  aunt  and  laughed  a  lit 
tle  ;  it  seemed  to  her  a  very  self-evident  fact,  since 
John  had  just  gone. 

"  Exactly,"  said  she.  "  Won't  you  call  me  Joe, 
aunt  Zoruiah  ?  They  all  do  at  home  —  even  Ron 
ald." 

"  Joe  ?  Boy's  name.  Well,  if  you  insist  upon 
it.  As  I  was  saying,  you  have  seen  John  Harring 
ton,  now." 

"  Exactly,"  repeated  Joe. 

"  But  I  mean,  how  does  he  strike  you  ?  " 

"  Clever  I  should  think,"  answered  the  young 
lady.  "Clever,  you  know  —  that  sort  of  thing. 
Not  bad  looking,  either." 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  Miss  Schenectady. 

"  Yes  —  but  I  expected  ever  so  much  more  from 
what  you  said,"  returned  Joe,  kneeling  on  the  rug 
before  the  fire  and  poking  the  coals  with  the  tongs. 
Miss  Schenectady  looked  somewhat  offended  at  the 
slight  cast  upon  her  late  guest. 


88  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  You  are  very  difficile,  Joseph! —  I  mean  Joe, 
I  forgot." 

"  Ye — es,  very  diffyseal  —  that  sort  of  thing," 
repeated  Josephine,  mimicking  her  aunt's  pronun 
ciation  of  the  foreign  word,  "  I  know  I  am,  I  can 't 
possibly  help  it,  you  know."  A  dashing  thrust 
with  the  tongs  finally  destroyed  the  equilibrium  of 
the  fire,  and  the  coals  came  tumbling  down  upon 
the  hearth. 

"  Goodness  gracious  me ! "  exclaimed  the  old 
lady  in  great  anxiety,  "  you  will  have  the  house  on 
fire  in  no  time !  Give  me  the  tongs  right  away, 
my  dear.  You  do  not  understand  American  fire* ! " 


CHAPTER  HI. 

"DEAR  RONALD, — You  can't  imagine  what  a 
funny  place  Boston  is.  I  wish  you  were  here,  it 
would  be  so  nice  to  talk  about  them  together  —  I 
mean  the  people,  of  course,  for  they  are  much  fun 
nier  than  the  place  they  live  in.  But  I  think  they 
are  very  nice,  too,  particularly  some  of  the  men. 
I  don't  understand  the  women  in  the  least  —  they 
go  in  awfully  for  sets,  if  you  understand  that  kind 
of  thing  —  and  art,  too,  and  literature.  The  other 
day  at  a  lunch  party  —  that  is  what  they  call  it 
here  —  they  sat  and  talked  about  pictures  for  ever 
so  long.  I  wonder  what  you  would  have  said  if  you 
had  been  there !  but  then  there  were  no  men,  and 
so  you  could  n't  have  been,  could  you  ?  And  the 
sets,  too.  The  girls  who  come  out  together,  all  in  a 
batch,  like  a  hive  of  bees  swarming,  spend  the  rest 
of  their  lives  together  ;  and  they  have  what  they 
call  sewing  circles,  that  go  011  all  their  lives.  There 
are  sewing  circles  of  old  frumps  sixty  years  old 
who  have  never  been  parted  since  they  all  went  to 
their  first  ball  together.  They  sew  for  the  poor ; 
they  don't  sew  so  very  much,  you  know  ;  but  then 
they  have  a  tremendous  lunch  afterwards.  I  sewed 
for  the  poor  the  other  day,  because  one  of  the 
sewing  circles  asked  me  to  their  meeting.  I  sewed 


40  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

two  buttons  on  to  the  end  of  something,  and  then 
I  ate  six  kinds  of  salad,  and  went  to  drive  with 
Mr.  Vancouver.  I  dare  say  it  does  a  lot  of  good 
in  its  way,  but  I  think  the  poor  must  be  awfully 
good-natured. 

"  It  is  quite  too  funny  about  driving,  too.  You 
may  go  out  with  a  man  in  a  sleigh,  but  you  could 
n't  possibly  go  with  him  on  wheels  —  on  the  same 
road,  at  the  same  hour,  same  man,  same  every 
thing,  except  the  wheels.  You  agree  to  go  out 
next  week  in  a  sleigh  with  Mr.  Vancouver  ;  but 
when  the  day  comes,  if  it  has  happened  to  thaw 
and  there  is  no  snow,  and  he  comes  in  a  buggy, 
you  could  n't  possibly  go  with  him,  because  it  would 
be  quite  too  improper.  But  I  mean  to,  some  day, 
just  to  see  what  they  will  say.  I  wish  you  would 
come  I  We  would  do  a  lot  of  driving  together, 
and  by  and  by,  in  the  spring,  they  say  one  can 
ride  here,  but  only  along  the  roads,  for  everything 
else  is  so  thick  with  steam-engines  and  Irishmen 
that  one  could  not  possibly  go  across  country. 

"  But  although  they  are  so  funny,  they  are  really 
very  nice,  and  awfully  clever.  I  don't  think  there 
are  nearly  so  many  clever  men  anywhere  else  in 
society,  when  once  you  have  got  over  their  Amer 
icanisms.  Most  of  them  would  be  in  Parliament 
at  home;  but  nobody  goes  into  Parliament  here, 
except  Mr.  Harrington  —  that  is,  into  Congress, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  you  know.  They  say 
politics  in  America  are  not  at  all  fit  for  gentlemen, 
and  they  spend  an  hour  or  two  every  day  in  abus- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  41 

ing  all  the  politicians,  instead  of  turning  them  out 
and  managing  things  themselves.  But  Mr.  Har 
rington  is  going  to  be  a  senator  as  soon  as  he  can, 
and  he  is  so  clever  that  I  am  sure  he  will  make  a 
great  reform. 

"  I  don't  think  of  anything  else  to  say  just  now, 
but  if  I  do  I  will  write  again  —  only  it 's  unfem- 
inine  to  write  two  letters  running,  so  you  must 
answer  at  once.  And  if  you  should  want  to  travel 
this  winter  you  can  come  here  ;  they  will  treat 
you  ever  so  much  better  than  you  deserve.  So 
good-by.  Yours  ever  sincerely, 

"JoE  THORN." 
* 

The  precise  nature  of  the  friendship  that  ex 
isted  between  Josephine  Thorn  and  Ronald  Sur- 
biton  could  not  be  accurately  inferred  from  the 
above  specimen  of  correspondence ;  and  indeed 
the  letter  served  rather  to  confuse  than  to  en 
lighten  the  recipient  as  to  the  nature  of  his  rela 
tions  with  the  writer.  He  was,  of  course,  very 
much  in  love  with  Joe  Thorn  ;  he  knew  it,  because 
he  had  always  been  in  love  with  her  since  they 
were  children  together,  so  there  could  be  no  pos 
sible  doubt  in  the  matter.  But  whether  she  cared 
a  jot  for  him  and  his  feelings  he  could  not  clearly 
make  out,  from  the  style  of  the  hurried,  ungram- 
matical  sentences,  crammed  with  abbreviations  and 
unpermissible  elisions.  True,  she  said  three  times 
that  she  hoped  he  would  come  to  America ;  but 
America  was  a  long  way  off,  and  she  very  likely 


42  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

reckoned  on  his  laziness  and  dislike  to  foreign  trav 
eling.  It  is  so  easy  for  a  young  woman  writing 
from  Boston  to  say  to  a  young  man  residing  in 
Scotland,  "  Do  come  over  for  a  few  days  "  — 
Surbiton  thought  it  would  be  a  good  joke  to  take 
her  at  her  word  and  go.  The  idea  of  seeing  her 
again  so  much  sooner  than  he  had  expected  was  cer 
tainly  uppermost  in  his  mind  as  he  began  to  make 
his  resolution ;  but  it  was  sustained  and  strength 
ened  by  a  couple  of  allusions  Joe  had  made  to  men 
of  her  acquaintance  in  Boston,  not  to  say  by  the 
sweeping  remark  that  there  were  more  clever  men 
in  Boston  society  than  anywhere  else,  which  made 
his  vanity  smart  rather  unpleasantly.  When  Jose 
phine  used  to  tell  him,  half  in  earnest,  half  in  jest, 
that  he  was  "  so  dreadfully  stupid,"  he  did  not  feel 
much  hurt ;  but  it  was  different  when  she  took  the 
trouble  to  write  all  the  way  from  America  to  tell 
him  that  the  men  there  were  much  cleverer  than  at 
home.  He  had  a  great  mind  to  go  and  see  for 
himself  whether  it  were  true.  Nevertheless,  the 
hunting  was  particularly  good  just  at  the  time 
when  he  got  the  letter,  and  being  rather  prudent 
of  counsel,  Ronald  determined  to  wait  until  a  hard 
frost  should  spoil  his  temper  and  give  the  neces 
sary  stimulus  to  his  activity,  before  he  packed  his 
boxes  for  a  western  voyage. 

As  for  Josephine,  it  was  very  natural  that  she 
should  feel  a  little  homesick,  and  wish  to  have 
some  one  of  her  own  people  with  her.  In  spite  of 
the  favorable  views  she  expressed  about  America, 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  43 

Boston,  and  her  new  acquaintances,  her  position 
was  not  without  some  drawbacks  in  her  own  eyes. 
She  felt  herself  out  of  her  natural  element,  and 
the  very  great  admiration  she  received  in  society, 
though  pleasant  enough  in  itself,  was  not  to  her  so 
entirely  satisfactory  as  it  would  have  been  to  a 
woman  older  or  younger  than  she,  or  to  a  more 
thorough  flirt.  An  older  woman  would  have  en 
joyed  more  keenly  the  flattery  of  it ;  a  younger 
girl  would  have  found  it  more  novel  and  fresh, 
and  the  accomplished  professional  society  flirt  — 
there  is  no  other  word  to  express  her  —  would 
have  rejoiced  exceedingly  over  a  great  holocaust 
of  victims. 

In  writing  to  Surbiton  and  suggesting  to  him 
to  come  to  Boston,  Joe  had  no  intention  of  fanning 
his  hopes  into  flame.  She  never  thought  much 
about  Ronald.  She  had  long  been  used  to  him, 
and  regarded  him  in  the  light  of  a  marriage  fix 
ture,  though  she  had  never  exactly  promised  to 
marry  him  ;  she  had  been  brought  up  to  suppose 
she  would,  and  that  was  all.  When  or  where  the 
marriage  would  actually  take  place  was  a  question 
she  did  not  care  to  raise,  and  if  ever  Surbiton 
raised  it  she  repressed  him  ruthlessly.  For  the 
present  she  would  look  about  the  world,  seeing  she 
had  been  transported  into  a  new  part  of  it,  and 
she  found  it  amusing.  Only  she  would  like  to 
have  a  companion  to  whom  she  could  talk.  Ronald 
would  be  so  convenient,  and  after  all  it  was  a  great 
advantage  to  be  able  to  make  use  of  the  man  V 


44  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

whom  she  was  engaged.  She  never  had  known 
any  other  girl  who  could  do  that,  and  she  rather 
prided  herself  on  the  fact  that  she  was  not  ridic 
ulous,  although  she  was  in  the  most  tradition 
ally  absurd  position,  that  of  betrothal.  She  would 
like  to  compare  Ronald  with  the  men  she  had  met 
lately. 

The  desire  for  comparison  had  increased  of  late. 
A  fortnight  had  passed  since  she  had  first  met 
John  Harrington,  and  she  had  made  up  her  mind. 
He  was  handsome,  though  his  hair  was  red  and  he 
had  no  beard,  and  she  liked  him ;  she  liked  him 
very  much  ;  it  was  quite  different  from  her  liking 
for  Ronald.  She  liked  Ronald,  she  said  to  herself 
that  she  loved  him  dearly,  partly  because  she  ex 
pected  to  marry  him,  and  partly  because  he  was 
so  good  and  so  much  in  love  with  herself.  He 
would  take  any  amount  of  trouble  for  anything  she 
wanted.  But  John  was  different.  She  knew  very 
well  that  she  was  thinking  much  more  of  him  than 
he  of  her,  if  indeed  he  thought  of  her  at  all.  But 
she  was  a  little  ashamed  of  it,  and  in  order  to  jus 
tify  herself  in  her  own  eyes  she  was  cold  and  sar 
castic  in  her  manner  to  him,  so  that  people  noticed 
it,  and  even  John  Harrington  himself,  who  never 
thought  twice  whether  his  acquaintances  liked  him 
or  disliked  him,  remarked  one  day  to  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham  that  he  feared  he  had  offended  Miss  Thorn, 
as  she  took  such  particular  pains  to  treat  him  dif 
ferently  from  others.  On  the  other  hand  Joe  was 
always  extremely  candid  to  Pocock  Vancouver. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  45 

It  was  on  a  Monday  that  John  made  the  afore 
said  remark.  All  Boston  was  at  Mrs.  Wyndham's, 
—  excepting  all  the  other  ladies  who  lived  in  Bea 
con  Street,  and  that  is  a  very  considerable  portion 
of  Boston,  as  every  schoolboy  knows.  John  was 
standing  near  the  tea-table  talking  to  Mrs.  Sam, 
when  Joe  entered  the  room  and  came  up  to  the 
hostess,  who  welcomed  her  warmly.  She  nodded 
coldly  to  John  without  shaking  hands,  and  joined 
a  group  of  young  girls  near  by. 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  said  John  to  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham.  "  I  wonder  whether  I  can  have  done  any 
thing  Miss  Thorn  resents.  I  am  not  sensitive,  but 
it  is  impossible  to  mistake  people  when  they  look 
at  one  like  that.  She  always  does  it  just  in  that 
way." 

Mrs.  Wyndham  looked  inquiringly  at  John  for 
a  moment,  and  the  quick  smile  of  ready  compre 
hension  played  on  her  sensitive  mouth. 

"Are  you  really  quite  sure  you  have  not  of 
fended  her  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Quite  sure,"  John  answered,  in  a  tone  of  con 
viction.  "  Besides,  I  never  offend  any  one,  cer 
tainly  not  ladies.  I  never  did  such  a  thing  in  my 
whole  life." 

"Not  singly,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  laughing. 
"  You  offend  people  in  large  numbers  when  you 
do  it  at  all,  especially  newspaper  people.  Sam 
read  that  ridiculous  article  in  the  paper  to  me  last 
night." 

"  Which  paper  ?  "  asked  John,  smiling.  "  They 
have  most  of  them  been  at  me  this  week." 


46  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  The  paper,"  answered  Mrs.  Sam,  "  the  horrid 
paper.  You  do  not  suppose  I  would  mention  such 
a  publication  in  my  house  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  old  enemy,"  laughed  John.  "  I  do 
not  mind  that  in  the  least.  One  might  almost 
think  those  articles  were  written  by  Miss  Thorn." 

"  Perhaps  they  are,"  answered  Mrs.  Wyndham. 
"  Keally,"  she  added,  glancing  at  Josephine,  whom 
Pocock  Vancouver  had  just  detached  from  her 
group  of  girls,  "  really  you  may  not  be  so  very, 
very  far  wrong."  John's  glance  followed  the  di 
rection  of  her  eyes,  and  he  saw  Vancouver.  He 
looked  steadily  at  the  man's  delicate  pale  features 
and  intellectual  head,  and  at  the  end  of  half  a 
minute  he  and  Mrs.  Wyndham  looked  at  each 
other  again.  She  probably  regretted  the  hint  she 
had  carelessly  dropped,  but  she  met  Harrington's 
gaze  frankly. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  say  it,"  she  said,  for  John 
looked  so  grave  that  she  was  frightened.  "It  was 
only  a  guess." 

"  But  have  you  any  reason  to  think  it  might  be 
the  truth?"  asked  John. 

"  None  whatever  —  really  none,  except  that  he 
differs  so  much  from  you  in  every  way,  politically 
speaking." 

She  knew  very  well  that  Vancouver  hated  John, 
and  she  had  often  thought  it  possible  that  the  of 
fensive  articles  in  question  came  from  the  pen  of 
the  former.  There  was  a  tone  of  superior  wit  and 
a  ring  of  truer  English  in  them  than  are  generally 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  47 

met  with  in  the  average  office  work  of  a  daily  news 
paper. 

"  I  do  not  believe  Vancouver  writes  them,"  said 
John,  slowly.  "  He  is  not  exactly  a  friend,  but  he 
is  not  an  enemy  either." 

Mrs.  Wyndham,  who  knew  better  than  that, 
held  her  peace.  She  was  not  a  mischief-maker, 
and  moreover  she  liked  both  the  men  too  well  to 
wish  a  quarrel  between  them.  She  busied  herself 
at  the  tea-table  for  a  moment,  and  John  stood  near 
her,  watching  the  moving  crowd.  Now  and  then 
his  eyes  rested  on  Josephine  Thorn's  graceful  fig 
ure,  and  he  noticed  how  her  expressive  features 
lighted  up  in  the  conversation.  John  could  hear 
something  of  their  conversation,  which  was  some 
what  noisy.  They  were  talking  in  that  strain  of 
objectless  question  and  answer  which  may  be  stupid 
to  idiocy  or  clever  to  the  verge  of  wit,  according 
to  the  talkers.  Joe  called  it  "  chaff." 

"  I  have  learned  America,"  said  Joe. 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Vancouver.  "  You  have  not 
been  long  about  it ;  but  then,  you  will  say  there  is 
not  much  to  learn." 

"  I  never  believe  in  places  till  I  have  lived  in 
them,"  said  Joe. 

"  Nor  in  people  till  you  have  seen  them,  I  sup 
pose,"  returned  Vancouver.  "  But  now  that  you 
have  learned  America,  of  course  you  believe  in  us 
all  without  exception.  We  are  the  greatest  nation 
on  earth  —  I  suppose  you  have  heard  that  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  you  told  me  so  the  other  day ;  but  it 


48  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

needs  all  the  faith  I  have  in  your  judgment  to  be 
lieve  it.  If  any  one  else  had  said  it,  you  know,  I 
should  have  thought  there  was  some  mistake." 

44  Oh  no ;  it  is  pretty  true,  taking  it  all  round," 
returned  Vancouver,  with  a  smile.  "  But  I  am 
tremendously  flattered  at  the  faith  you  put  in  my 
sayings.'* 

"  Oh,  are  you  ?  That  is  odd,  you  know,  because 
if  you  are  so  much  flattered  at  my  believing  you, 
you  would  not  be  much  disappointed  if  I  doubted 
you." 

"  I  beg  to  differ.     Excuse  me  "  — 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Joe,  laughing.  "  Only 
we  have  old-fashioned  prejudices  at  home.  We 
begin  by  expecting  to  be  believed,  and  are  some 
times  a  good  deal  annoyed  if  any  one  says  we  are 
telling  fibs." 

"Of  course,  if  you  put  it  in  that  way,"  said 
Vancouver.  "  But  I  suppose  it  is  not  a  very  bad 
fib  to  say  one's  country  is  the  greatest  on  earth.  I 
am  sure  you  English  say  it  quite  as  often  and  as 
loudly  as  we  do,  and,  you  see,  we  cannot  both  be 
right,  possibly." 

"  No,  not  exactly.  But  suppose  two  men,  any 
two,  like  you  and  Mr.  Harrington  for  instance, 
each  made  a  point  of  telling  every  one  you  met 
that  you  were  the  greatest  man  on  earth." 

"  It  is  conceivable  that  we  might  both  be  wrong," 
said  Vancouver,  laughing  at  tlie  idea. 

"  But  one  of  you  might  be  right,"  objected  Joe. 

"  No  —  that  is  not  conceivable,"  retorted  Van 
oouver. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  49 

**  No  ?  Let  us  ask  Mr.  Harrington.  Mr.  Har 
rington  I"  Joe  turned  towards  John  and  called 
him.  He  was  only  a  step  from  her,  and  joined 
the  two  instantly.  He  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  inquiringly. 

"  Here  is  a  great  question  to  be  decided,  Mr, 
Harrington,"  said  Joe.  "  I  was  saying  to  Mr. 
Vancouver  that,  supposing  each  of  you  asserted 
that  he  was  the  greatest  man  on  earth,  it  would  — 
I  mean,  how  could  the  point  be  settled  ?  "  John 
stared  for  a  moment. 

"  If  you  insist  upon  raising  such  a  very  remark 
able  point  of  precedence,  Miss  Thorn,"  he  an 
swered  calmly,  "  I  am  sure  Vancouver  will  agres 
with  me  to  leave  the  decision  to  you  also." 

Joe  looked  slightly  annoyed.  She  had  brought 
the  retort  on  herself. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Vancouver,  quickly,  "  1  ob 
ject  to  the  contest.  The  match  is  not  a  fair  one. 
Mr.  Harrington  means  to  be  the  greatest  man  on 
earth,  or  in  the  water  under  the  earth,  whereas  I 
have  no  such  aspiration." 

Instead  of  being  grateful  to  Vancouver  for  com 
ing  to  her  rescue  in  the  rather  foolish  position  in 
which  she  was  placed,  Joe  felt  unaccountably  an 
noyed.  She  was  willing  to  make  sure  of  John  her 
self,  if  she  could,  but  she  was  not  prepared  to  al 
low  that  privilege  to  any  one  else.  Accordingly 
she  turned  upon  Vancouver  before  John  could  an 
swer. 

"The  question  began  in  a  foolish  comparison, 

4 


60  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

Mr.  Vancouver,"  she  said  coldly.  "  I  think  you 
are  inclined  to  make  it  personal." 

"I  believe  it  became  personal  from  the  moment 
you  hit  upon  Mr.  Harrington  and  me  as  illustra 
tions  of  what  you  were  saying,  Miss  Thorn,"  re 
torted  Vancouver,  very  blandly,  but  with  a  disa 
greeable  look  in  his  eyes.  He  was  angry  at  Joe's 
rebuke. 

John  stood  calmly  by  without  exhibiting  the 
least  shade  of  annoyance.  The  chaff  of  a  mere 
girl,  and  the  little  satirical  thrusts  of  a  lady's  man 
like  Vancouver,  did  not  seem  to  him  of  much  inv 
portance.  Joe,  however,  did  not  vouchsafe  any 
answer  to  Vancouver's  last  remark,  and  it  devolved 
on  John  to  say  something  to  relieve  the  awkward 
ness  of  the  situation. 

"  Have  you  become  reconciled  to  our  methods  of 
amusement,  Miss  Thorn  ?  "  he  asked,  "  or  shall  we 
devise  something  .different  from  the  everlasting 
sleighing  and  five  o'clock  tea,  and  dinner  parties 
and  '  dancing  classes '  ?  " 

"  Oh,  do  not  remind  me  of  all  that,"  said  Joe. 
"I  did  not  mean  half  of  it,  you  know."  She 
turned  to  John,  and  Vancouver  moved  away  in 
pursuit  of  Sybil  Brandon,  who  had  just  entered 
the  room. 

"Tell  me,"  said  Joe,  when  Pocock  was  gone, 
"do  you  like  Mr.  Vancouver?  You  are  great 
friends,  are  you  not?"  John  looked  at  her  in 
quiringly. 

"  1  should  not  say  we  were  very  great  friends,' 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  51 

he  answered,  "  because  we  are  not  intimate  ,•  but 
we  have  always  been  on  excellent  terms,  as  far  as 
I  know.  Vancouver  is  a  very  clever  fellow." 

"  Yes,"  said  Joe,  thoughtfully,  "  I  fancy  he  is. 
You  do  not  mind  rny  having  asked,  do  you  ?  " 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  John,  quietly.  His 
face  had  grown  very  grave  again,  and  he  seemed 
suddenly  absorbed  by  some  thought.  "  Let  us  sit 
down,"  he  said  presently,  and  the  two  installed 
themselves  on  a  divan  in  a  corner. 

"  You  are  not  in  the  least  inquisitive,"  remarked 
Joe,  as  soon  as  they  were  settled. 

"  What  makes  you  say  that  ?  "  asked  John. 
4  "  It  was  such  a  silly  thing,  you  know,  and  you 
never  asked  what  it  was  all  about." 

"  When  you  called  me  ?  No  —  I  did  not  hear 
what  led  up  to  it,  and  I  supposed  from  what  you 
said  afterwards  that  I  understood." 

"  Did  you  ?     What  did  you  think  ?  "  asked  Joe. 

"  I  thought  from  the  question  about  Vancouver 
that  you  wanted  to  put  us  into  an  awkward  posi 
tion  in  order  to  find  out  whether  we  were  friends." 

"  No,"  said  Joe,  with  a  little  laugh,  "  I  am  not 
so  clever  as  that.  It  was  pure  silliness  —  chaff, 
you  know  —  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Oh,"  ejaculated  John,  still  quite  unmoved, 
"  then  it  was  not  of  any  importance." 

"  Very  silly  things  sometimes  turn  out  to  be 
very  important.  Saul,  you  know  —  was  not  it  he  ? 
— was  looking  for  asses  and  he  found  a  kingdom." 
John  laughed  suddenly. 


52  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  And  so  it  is  clear  which  part  Vancouver  and  I 
played  in  the  business,"  he  said.  "  But  where  is 
the  kingdom  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  mean  that,"  said  Joe,  seriously.  "  I 
am  not  making  fun  any  more.  I  have  not  been 
successful  in  my  chaff  to-day.  I  should  think  that 
in  your  career  it  would  be  very  important  for  you 
to  know  who  are  your  friends.  Is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  John,  looking  at  her  curiously. 
"  It  is  very  important ;  but  I  think  political  life  is 
generally  much  simpler  than  people  suppose.  It 
is  rather  like  fighting.  The  man  who  hits  you  is 
your  enemy.  The  man  who  does  not  is  practically 
your  friend.  Do  you  mean  in  regard  to  Vancou 
ver?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Vancouver  never  hit  me,  that  I  can  swear," 
said  John,  "  and  I  am  very  sure  I  never  hit  him." 

"  I  dare  say  I  am  mistaken,"  said  Joe.  "  You 
ought  to  know  best.  Let  us  leave  him  alone." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  answered  John. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing,  Mr.  Har 
rington,"  said  Joe,  after  a  moment's  pause ;  "  all 
the  papers  are  full  of  you." 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  rather  in  the  passive  mood 
during  the  last  week.  I  have  been  standing  up  to 
be  shot  at." 

"  Without  shooting  back  ?  What  are  they  so 
angry  about  ?  " 

"  The  truth,"  said  John,  calmly.  "  They  do  not 
like  to  hear  it." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  53 

"  What  is  truth  —  in  this  instance  ?  " 

"  Apparently  something  so  unpleasant  that  the 
mere  mention  of  it  has  roused  the  bile  of  every 
penny-a-liner  in  the  Republican  press.  I  under 
took  to  demonstrate  that  one  of  the  fifteen  millions 
of  the  '  ablest  men  in  the  country,'  whom  you  are 
always  hearing  about,  is  a  swindler.  He  is,  but 
he  does  not  like  to  be  told  so." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  Joe.  "  I  wonder  if  any 
one  likes  unpleasant  truths.  But  what  do  you 
mean  to  do  now  ?  Are  you  going  to  fight  it  out  ? 
I  hope  so !  " 

"  Of  course,  in  good  time.  One  can  hardly  re- 
tii^  from  such  a  position  as  mine ;  they  would 
make  an  end  of  me  in  a  week  and  quarrel  over 
my  bones.  But  the  real  fight  will  be  fought  by 
and  by,  when  the  elections  come  on." 

"  How  exciting  it  must  all  be,"  said  Joe.  "  I 
wish  I  were  a  man  !  " 

"  And  an  American  ? "  asked  John,  smiling. 
"  How  are  the  mighty  fallen !  You  were  laughing 
at  us  and  our  politics  the  day  before  yesterday, 
and  now  you  are  wishing  you  were  one  of  us  your 
self.  I  think  you  must  be  naturally  fond  of  fight- 
ing"- 

"  Fond  of  a  row?  "  suggested  Miss  Thorn,  with 
a  laugh.  "  Yes,  I  fancy  I  am.  I  am  fond  of  ail 
active  things.  Are  not  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  John.  "  I  never  thought 
much  about  it.  But  I  suppose  I  should  be  called 
rather  an  active  person." 


64  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Is  not  she  beautiful  ?  "  ejaculated  Miss  Thorn, 
looking  across  the  room  at  Sybil  Brandon,  whose 
fair  head  was  just  visible  between  two  groups  of 
people. 

"  Who  ? "  asked  John,  who  was  looking  at  his 
companion. 

"  Miss  Brandon,"  said  Joe.  "  Look  at  her,  over 
there.  I  think  she  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  I 
ever  saw." 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  "  she  is  very  beautiful." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ALL  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  and  women 
elbowed  and  crowded  each  other  under  the  dim 
gaslight  at  the  three  entrances  to  the  Boston  Music 
Hall.  The  snow  was  thick  on  the  ground  outside, 
and  it  had  been  thawing  all  the  afternoon.  The 
great  booby  sleighs  slid  and  slipped  and  rocked 
through  the  wet  stuff,  the  policemen  vociferated, 
tae  horse-car  drivers  on  Tremont  Street  rang  their 
bells  furiously,  and  a  great  crowd  of  pedestrians 
stumbled  and  tumbled  about  in  the  mud  and  slush 
and  snow  of  the  crossings,  all  bent  on  getting  in 
side  the  Music  Hall  in  time  for  the  beginning  of 
the  lecture. 

The  affair  was  called  a  "  lecture  "  in  accordance 
with  the  time-honored  custom  of  Boston,  and  un 
less  it  were  termed  an  oration,  it  would  be  hard  to 
find  a  better  name  for  it.  A  "  meeting  "  implies  a 
number  of  orators,  or  at  least  a  well-filled  row  of 
chairs  upon  the  platform.  A  "  lecture,"  on  the 
other  hand,  does  not  convey  to  the  ordinary  mind 
the  idea  of  a  political  speech,  and  critical  persons 
with  a  taste  for  etymology  say  that  the  word  means 
something  which  is  read. 

John  Harrington  had  determined  to  speak  in 
public  on  certain  subjects  connected  with  modern 


56  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

politics,  and  had  caused  the  fact  to  be  extensively 
made  known.  His  name  alone  would  have  sufficed 
to  draw  a  large  audience,  but  the  great  attention 
he  had  attracted  by  his  doings  for  some  time  past, 
and  the  severe  criticisms  lately  made  upon  him  by 
the  local  press,  rendered  the  interest  even  greater 
than  it  would  otherwise  have  been.  Moreover,  the 
lecture  was  free.  Harrington  was  a  poor  man,  as 
fortunes  go  in  Boston,  but  it  was  his  chiefest  prin 
ciple  that  a  man  had  no  right  to  be  paid  for  speak 
ing  the  truth,  even  though  it  might  sometimes 
be  just  that  people  should  pay  something  for  hear 
ing  it.  Accordingly  the  lecture  was  free,  and  at 
the  appointed  hour  the  house  was  full  to  over 
flowing. 

In  the  front  row  of  the  first  gallery  sat  old  Miss 
Schenectady,  and  by  her  side  was  Josephine  Thorn. 
A  little  colony  of  "  Beacon  Street  "  had  collected 
there,  and  Pocock  Vancouver  was  not  far  off.  It 
is  not  often  that  Beacon  Street  goes  to  such  lec 
tures,  but  John  was  one  of  themselves,  and  had 
too  many  friends  and  enemies  among  them  not  to 
be  certain  of  a  large  attendance. 

Miss  Schenectady  was  there,  partly  because  she 
believed  in  John  Harrington,  and  partly  because 
Joe  insisted  upon  going  ;  and,  generally  speaking, 
what  Joe  insisted  upon  was  done.  The  old  lady 
did  not  understand  why  her  niece  was  so  very 
anxious  to  be  present,  but  as  the  proposition  fell 
in  with  her  own  desires,  she  made  no  objection. 
The  fact  was  that  Joe's  interest  in  John  had  very 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  57 

greatly  increased  of  late,  and  her  curiosity  to  hear 
the  man  she  met  so  often  speak  to  a  great  audi 
ence  was  excited  to  its  highest  pitch.  She  fancied, 
too,  from  many  things  she  had  heard  said,  that  a 
large  proportion  of  his  audience  would  be  hostile 
to  him,  and  that  she  would  see  him  roused  to  his 
greatest  strength  and  eloquence.  She  did  not  con 
sider  her  impulse  in  the  least,  for  though  she  felt 
a  stronger  interest  in  Harrington  than  she  had 
ever  before  felt  in  any  individual,  it  had  not  struck 
her  that  she  was  beginning  to  care  overmuch  for 
the  sight  of  his  face  and  the  sound  of  his  voice. 
She  could  not  have  believed  she  was  beginning  to 
l-tve  him ;  and  if  any  secret  voice  had  suggested 
to  her  conscience  that  it  was  so,  she  could  have 
silenced  it  at  once  to  her  own  satisfaction  by 
merely  remembering  the  coldness  with  which  she 
generally  treated  him.  She  had  got  into  the  habit 
of  treating  him  in  that  way  from  the  first,  when 
she  had  been  prejudiced  against  him  and  the  an 
noyance  she  often  felt  at  his  indifference  made  her 
think  that  she  ought  to  be  consistent  and  never  al 
low  her  formal  manner  to  change.  Unfortunately 
she  now  and  then  forgot  herself,  as  she  had  done 
after  the  little  skirmish  with  Vancouver  at  Mrs. 
Wyndham's,  and  then  she  talked  to  him  and  asked 
him  questions  of  himself  almost  as  though  he  were 
an  intimate  friend. 

John,  who  was  a  man  of  the  world  as  well  as  a 
man  of  talent,  thought  she  was  capricious,  and 
since  he  was  infinitely  removed  from  falling  in 


58  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

love  with  her,  or  indeed  with  any  other  woman,  he 
found  it  agreeable  to  talk  to  her  when  she  was  in 
a  good  humor,  and  when  she  was  ungracious  he 
merely  kept  out  of  her  way.  If  he  had  deliber 
ately  made  up  his  mind  to  attract  her  attention 
and  interest,  he  could  have  chosen  no  surer  way 
than  this.  But  although  he  admired  her  beauty 
and  vivacity,  and  now  and  then  took  a  real  pleas 
ure  in  her  conversation,  his  mind  was  too  full  of 
other  matters  to  receive  any  lasting  impression  of 
such  a  kind.  Besides,  she  was  capricious,  and  he 
hated  mere  caprice. 

And  now  there  was  a  hush  in  the  house,  and 
then  a  short  burst  of  applause,  and  Josephine, 
looking  down,  saw  John  standing  alone  upon  the 
platform  in  front  of  the  great  bronze  statue  of 
Beethoven.  He  looked  exactly  as  he  did  when  she 
met  him  in  society  ;  there  was  no  change  in  the 
even  color  of  his  face,  nor  any  awkwardness  or 
self-consciousness  in  his  easy  attitude  as  he  stood 
there,  broad-shouldered  and  square,  his  strong  hand 
just  resting  on  the  plain  desk  that  had  been  placed 
in  the  middle  of  the  stage.  He  waited  a  feAv  sec 
onds  for  silence  in  the  audience,  and  then  b.><;;m 
to  speak.  His  voice  sounded  as  natural  and  his 
accent  as  unaffected  as  though  he  were  talking 
alone  with  a  friend,  saving  only  that  every  syllable 
he  uttered  was  audible  in  the  furthest  gallery. 
Josephine  leaned  forward  upon  the  red  leather 
cushion  of  the  railing  before  her,  watching  and 
listening  intently. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  59 

She  did  not  understand  the  subject  well.  John 
Harrington  was  a  reformer,  she  knew ;  or,  to  speak 
more  accurately,  he  desired  to  be  one.  He  be 
lieved  great  changes  were  necessary.  He  believed 
in  an  established  Civil  Service,  in  something  which, 
if  not  exactly  Free  Trade,  was  much  nearer  to  it 
than  the  existing  tariff.  Above  all,  he  believed  in 
truth  and  freedom  instead  of  lying  and  bribery. 
As  he  spoke  and  cleared  the  way  to  his  main  points, 
his  voice  never  quavered  or  faltered.  He  was  per 
fectly  sure  of  himself,  and  he  reserved  all  his 
strength  for  the  time  when  it  should  be  most  re 
quired.  For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  proceeded, 
and  the  people  sat  in  dead  silence  before  him. 
Then  he  paused  a  moment,  and  shifted  his  position 
a  little,  moving  a  step  forward  as  though  to  gain  a 
better  hearing. 

"  I  am  coming  to  the  point,"  he  said,  — "  the 
point  that  I  must  come  to  sooner  or  later.  I  am 
a  Democrat,  as  perhaps  some  of  you  know." 

Here  there  was  an  uneasy  movement  in  the 
house.  "  Yes,  I  guess  you  are  ! "  cried  a  voice 
from  somewhere,  in  a  tone  of  high  nasal  irony. 
Some  one  laughed,  and  some  one  hissed,  and  then 
there  was  silence  again. 

"  Exactly,"  continued  John,  unmoved  by  the  in 
terruption.  "  I  am  a  Democrat,  and  though  the 
sight  does  not  astonish  you  so  much  as  it  might 
have  done  twenty  years  ago,  it  is  worthy  of  re 
mark,  nevertheless.  But  I  have  a  peculiarity 
which  I  think  you  will  allow  to  be  extremely  novel. 


60  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

I  do  not  begin  by  saying  that  salvation  is  only  to 
be  found  with  Democrats,  and  I  will  not  believe 
any  man  who  says  it  belongs  exclusively  to  Repub 
licans.  If  we  were  suddenly  put  in  great  danger 
of  any  kind,  war,  famine,  or  revolution,  I  think 
that  in  some  way  or  other  we  should  manage  to 
save  the  country  between  us,  Republicans  and 
Democrats,  for  the  common  good." 

"  That 's  so  !  "  said  more  than  one  voice. 

"  Of  course  we  should.  Is  there  any  one  among 
us  all  who  would  not  give  up  his  individual  views 
about  a  local  election  rather  than  see  the  country  go 
to  pieces?  Would  any  man  be  such  a  coward  as 
to  be  afraid  to  change  his  mind  in  order  to  prevent 
another  Rebellion,  another  Civil  War  ?  No,  no, 
we  are  more  civilized  than  that.  We  want  our 
own  men  in  Congress,  our  own  friends  in  office, 
just  so  long  as  they  are  serviceable  — just  so  long 
as  the  country  can  stand  it,  if  you  like  it  in  that 
way.  But  if  it  comes  to  be  a  question  between 
the  public  good  and  having  your  cousin  made  post 
master  in  a  country  village,  I  think  there  is  enough 
patriotism  in  the  average  Democrat  or  Republican 
to  send  the  country  cousin  about  his  business.  If 
worst  comes  to  worst,  we  can  save  the  country  be 
tween  us,  depend  upon  it.  We  have  done  it  be 
fore." 

Here  there  was  a  burst  of  willing  applause.  It 
is  a  great  point  to  bring  an  audience  into  the  posi 
tion  of  applauding  themselves. 

Joe  watched  John's  every  gesture,  and  listened 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  61 

intently  to  every  word.  His  voice  rang  clear  and 
strong  through  the  great  hall,  and  he  was  begin 
ning  to  be  roused.  He  had  gained  a  decided  ad 
vantage  in  the  success  of  his  last  words,  and  as  he 
gathered  his  strength  for  the  real  effort  which  was 
to  come,  his  cheek  paled  and  his  gray  eyes  grew 
brighter.  He  spoke  out  again  through  the  sub 
siding  clamor. 

"  Now  I  say  that  the  country  is  in  danger.  It  is 
in  very  great  danger,  the  greatest  danger  that  can 
threaten  any  community.  The  institutions  of  a 
nation  are  like  the  habits  of  a  man,  except  that 
they  are  harder  to  improve  and  easier  to  spoil. 
We  have  got  into  bad  habits,  and  if  we  do  not 
mend  them  they  will  take  us  to  a  more  certain  de 
struction  than  revolution,  famine,  or  war,  —  or  all 
three  together.  It  is  easier  to  fight  a  thing  that 
has  a  head  to  it  and  a  name,  than  a  thing  that  is 
everywhere  and  has  no  name,  because  no  one  has 
the  courage  to  christen  it. 

"  We  are  like  a  man  who  has  grown  from  being 
a  pedler  of  tape  and  buttons  to  be  the  greatest  dry- 
goods-man  in  his  town,  and  then  to  being  a  great 
dealer  for  many  towns.  When  he  was  a  pedler  he 
could  carry  the  profit  and  loss  on  his  buttons  and 
tape  in  his  head,  because  the  profits  were  literally 
in  his  pocket,  and  the  losses  were  literally  out  of  it. 
But  when  he  has  grown  into  a  great  merchant  he 
must  keep  books,  and  he  must  keep  a  great  many 
of  them,  and  they  must  be  kept  accurately,  or  he 
will  get  into  trouble  and  go  to  ruin.  That  is  true, 


62  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

is  it  not?  And  when  lie  was  a  pedler  he  could 
buy  his  stock-in-trade  himself,  and  be  sure  that  it 
was  what  he  wanted ;  but  when  he  is  one  of  the 
great  merchants  he  must  employ  other  people  to 
help  him,  and  unless  they  are  the  right  people  and 
understand  the  business,  he  will  be  ruined.  No 
body  can  deny  that. 

"  Very  well.  We  began  in  a  small  way  as  a 
nation,  without  much  stock-in-trade,  and  we  kept 
our  accounts  by  rule  of  thumb.  But  it  seems  to 
me  we  are  doing  a  pretty  large  business  as  a  nation 
just  now." 

There  was  a  laugh,  and  sundry  remarks  to  the 
effect  that  the  audience  understood  what  John  was 
driving  at. 

"  Yes,  we  are  doing  a  great  business,  and  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  we  are  doing  it  on  false  busi 
ness  principles,  and  with  an  absolutely  incompetent 
staff  of  clerks.  What  would  you  think  of  a  mer 
chant  who  dismissed  all  his  book-keepers  every  four 
years,  and  engaged  a  set  of  shoemakers,  or  tailors, 
or  artists,  or  musicians  to  fill  up  the  vacancies  ?  " 

A  low  murmur  ran  through  the  hall,  a  murmur 
of  disapprobation.  Probably  a  large  number  out 
of  the  three  thousand  men  and  women  present  had 
cousins  in  country  post  offices.  But  John  did  not 
pause ;  his  voice  grew  full  and  clear,  ringing  high 
above  the  dull  sounds  in  the  house.  From  her 
place  in  the  gallery  Josephine  looked  down,  never 
taking  her  eyes  from  the  face  of  the  orator.  She 
too  was  pale  with  excitement ;  had  she  been  will- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  63 

ing  to  acknowledge  it,  it  was  fear.  That  deep- 
toned  beginning  of  a  protest  from  the  great  con 
course  was  like  an  omen  of  failure  to  her  sensitive 
ear.  She  longed  to  see  John  Harrington  succeed 
and  carry  his  hearers  with  him  into  an  access  of 
enthusiasm.  John  expected  no  such  thing.  He 
only  wanted  the  people  to  understand  thoroughly 
what  he  meant,  for  he  was  sure  that  if  once  they 
knew  the  truth  clearly  they  would  feel  for  it  as 
he  himself  did. 

"Nevertheless,"  he  continued,  "I  tell  you  that 
is  what  we  are  doing,  what  we  have  been  doing 
for  years,  from  the  very  beginning.  And  if  we  go 
oh  doing  it  we  shall  get  into  trouble.  We  choose 
schoolboys  to  do  the  work  of  men,  we  expect  that 
by  the  mere  signature  of  the  head  of  the  executive 
any  man  can  be  turned  into  an  accomplished  pub 
lic  officer  fit  to  be  compared  with  one  whose  whole 
life  has  been  spent  in  the  public  service.  We  wish 
to  be  represented  abroad  among  foreign  nations 
in  a  way  becoming  to  our  dignity  and  very  great 
power,  and  we  select  as  our  ministers  a  number  of 
gentlemen  who  in  most  cases  have  never  read  a 
diplomatic  despatch  in  their  lives,  and  who  some 
times  are  not  even  acquainted  with  any  language 
save  their  own.  Perhaps  you  will  say  that  our 
dignity  is  not  of  much  importance  provided  our 
power  is  great  enough.  I  do  not  think  you  will 
say  it,  but  there  are  communities  in  our  country 
where  it  would  most  certainly  be  said.  Very  well, 
8O  be  it.  But  where  do  you  think  our  power  comes 


64  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

from  ?  Do  you  think  there  is  a  boundless  store  of 
some  natural  product  called  power,  of  which  we 
need  only  take  as  much  as  we  want  in  order  to 
stand  a  head  and  shoulders  higher  than  any  other 
nation  in  the  world  ?  What  is  power  ?  Can  a 
man  be  strong  if  he  has  an  internal  disease,  or  is 
his  strength  any  use  to  him  if  his  arms  and  legs  are 
out  of  joint  ?  Would  you  believe  in  the  strength 
of  a  great  firm  that  hired  a  company  of  actors  from 
a  theatre,  and  made  the  tragedian  cashier  and  the 
low-comedy  man  head  book-keeper  ? 

"  The  sick  man  may  live  for  years  with  his  sick 
ness,  and  the  man  whose  limbs  are  all  distorted 
may  still  deal  a  formidable  blow  with  his  head,  if 
it  is  thick  enough.  The  firm  may  prosper  for 
a  time  with  its  staff  of  theatrical  clerks,  provided 
there  is  enough  business  to  pay  for  all  their  mis 
takes  and  leave  a  margin  of  profit.  But  the  sick 
man  does  not  live  because  he  is  diseased,  but  in 
spite  of  it.  The  distorted  joints  of  the  cripple  do 
not  help  him  to  fight.  The  firm  is  not  rich  be 
cause  its  business  is  done  by  tragedians  and  walk 
ing-gentlemen,  but  in  spite  of  them.  If  the  doc 
tor  fails  to  give  his  medicine,  if  the  fighting  grows 
too  rough  for  the  cripple,  if  business  grows  slack, 
or  if  some  good  business  man  with  competent  as 
sistants  starts  a  strong  opposition  —  what  happens  ? 
What  must  inevitably  happen?  Why,  the  sick 
man  dies,  the  cripple  gets  the  worst  of  it,  and  the 
theatrical  firm  of  merchants  goes  straight  into 
bankruptcy. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  65 

"  And  so  I  tell  you  that  we  are  in  danger.  We 
are  sick  with  the  foul  disease  of  office  seeking  ;  we 
are  crippled  hand  and  foot  not  only  for  fighting 
but  for  working,  because  our  public  officers  are  in 
experienced  men  who  spend  four  years  in  learning 
a  trade  not  theirs,  and  are  very  generally  turned 
out  before  they  have  half  learnt  it ;  we  are  doing 
a  political  business  which  will  succeed  fairly  well 
just  so  long  as  we  are  rich  enough  to  provide  funds 
for  any  amount  of  extravagance  and  keep  enough 
in  our  pockets  to  buy  bread  and  cheese  with  after 
wards.  Just  so  long. 

"  When  we  have  been  lanced  here  in  Boston  and 
the^blood  is  running  freely,  we  can  still  cut  a  slice 
out  of  the  West  and  use  it  like  court-plaster  to 
stop  the  bleeding.  Some  day  there  will  be  no 
more  slices  to  be  had.  It  will  be  a  bad  day  in 
State  Street." 

This  remark  raised  a  laugh  and  a  good  deal  of 
noise  for  a  moment.  But  the  audience  were  soon 
silent  again.  Whether  they  meant  to  approve  or 
disapprove,  they  kept  their  opinions  to  themselves, 
Miss  Thorn  did  not  comprehend  the  allusion,  but 
she  was  listening  with  all  her  ears. 

"  You  understand  that,"  John  went  on.  "  Then 
understand  it  about  the  rest  of  the  country  as  well. 
Understand  that  we  are  all  the  time  patching  our 
income  with  our  capital ;  and  it  answers  pretty 
well  because  there  is  a  good  deal  of  capital  and  not 
so  very  many  of  ourselves,  as  yet.  There  will  be 
twice  as  many  of  us  in  a  few  years,  and  very  much 
5 


66  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

less  than  half  as  much  capital.  Understand  above 
all  that  we  are  getting  into  bad  habits  —  habits 
we  should  despise  in  a  corporation,  and  condemn 
by  very  bad  names  in  any  individual  man  of  our 
acquaintance. 

"  And  when  you  have  understood  it,  look  at 
matters  as  they  stand.  Look  at  the  incompetence 
of  our  public  officers,  look  at  our  ruined  carrying 
trade,  at  those  vile  enactions  of  fools,  and  worse 
than  fools,  the  Navigation  Laws  of  the  United 
States,  and  tell  me  whether  things  are  as  they 
should  be.  Tell  me  what  has  become  of  liberty  if 
you  cannot  buy  a  ship  where  you  can  get  her  best 
and  cheapest,  and  hoist  your  own  flag  upon  her, 
and  call  her  your  own  ?  You  may  pay  for  her  and 
bring  her  home  with  you,  but  though  she  were  ten 
times  paid  for,  you  cannot  hoist  the  American  flag, 
nor  register  her  in  your  own  port,  nor  claim  the 
protection  of  your  country  for  your  own  property 
—  because,  forsooth,  the  ship  was  not  built  on 
American  stocks,  where  she  would  cost  three  times 
her  value,  and  put  a  job  into  the  hands  of  a  set 
of  builders  of  river  steamboats  and  harbor  mud- 
scows." 

Loud  murmurs  ran  through  the  audience,  and 
cries  of  "  That 's  so !  "  and  counter  cries  of  "  Free 
trader  !  "  were  heard  on  all  sides.  John's  great 
voice  rang  out  like  a  trumpet.  He  knew  the  sen 
sitiveness  of  his  townsmen  on  the  point. 

"  I  arn  not  speaking  against  protection,"  he  said, 
and  at  the  magic  word  "protection  "  a  dead  silence 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  67 

again  fell  over  the  vast  crowd.  "  I  say  to  you, 
*  Protect ! '  Protect,  all  of  you,  merchants,  trades 
men,  the  great  body  of  the  commerce  of  this  coun 
try  ;  protect  whatever  you  all  decide  together  needs 
protection.  But  by  the  greatness  and  the  power 
you  have,  by  the  Heaven  that  gave  us  this  land  of 
ours  to  till  and  to  enjoy,  protect  also  yourselves 
and  your  liberties." 

A  patriotic  phrase  in  the  mouth  of  a  man  who 
has  the  golden  gift  of  speech,  coupled  with  the 
statement  of  a  principle  popular  with  his  audi 
ence,  is  a  sure  point  in  an  oration.  Something  in 
John's  tone  and  gesture  touched  the  sympathetic 
ch<jrd,  and  the  house  broke  out  in  a  great  cry  of 
applause. 

An  orator  cannot  always  talk  in  strict  logical 
sequence.  He  must  search  about  for  the  right 
nail  till  he  has  found  it,  and  then  drive  it  home. 

"  Aye,  that  is  the  point,"  he  said.  "  You  men 
of  Boston  here,  look  to  your  harbors,  crowded  with 
English  craft,  and  think  of  what  is  gone,  lost  to 
you  forever,  unless  you  will  strike  a  blow  for  it 
Many  of  you  are  old  enough  to  remember  how  it 
used  to  be.  Look  at  Salem  Harbor,  at  Marble- 
head.  Where  are  the  fleets  of  noble  ships  that  lay 
side  by  side  along  the  great  docks,  the  ships  that 
did  half  the  carrying  trade  of  the  world  ?  Where 
are  the  great  merchantmen  that  used  to  sail  so 
grandly  away  to  the  East  and  that  came  home  so 
richly  laden?  They  are  sunk  or  gone  to  pieces,  or 
sold  as  old  timber  and  copper  and  nails  to  the 


68  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

gentlemen  who  build  mudscows.  What  are  the 
great  merchants  doing  who  owned  those  fleets? 
They  are  employing  their  time  in  building  railroads 
with  English  iron  and  foreign  labor  into  desolate 
deserts  in  the  West,  which  they  hope  to  sell  at 
a  handsome  profit,  and  probably  will.  But  when 
there  are  no  more  desolate  deserts  and  English  iron 
and  foreign  labor  to  be  had,  they  will  wish  they 
had  their  ships  again,  and  that  in  all  these  years 
they  had  got  possession  of  the  carrying  trade  of 
the  world,  as  they  might  have  done. 

"  That  is  what  I  am  here  to  say.  The  time  is 
come  to  give  up  the  shifts  and  unstable  expedients 
that  we  needed,  or  thought  we  needed,  in  our  early 
beginnings.  Let  us  pull  down  all  these  scaffold 
ings  and  stages  that  have  helped  us  to  build,  and  let 
us  see  whether  our  fabric  will  stand  upon  its  base, 
erect,  without  the  paltry  support  of  a  few  rotting 
timbers.  Let  us  substitute  the  permanent  for  the 
transitory,  the  stable  for  the  unstable,  and  the  real 
ity  for  the  sham.  Let  us  have  a  Civil  Service  in 
fact  as  well  as  in  name,  a  service  of  men  trained  to 
their  duties,  and  who  shall  spend  their  lives  in  ful 
filling  them  ;  a  service  of  competent  men  to  repre 
sent  us  abroad,  and  a  service  of  honest  men  to  do 
the  country's  business  at  home,  instead  of  making 
the  country  do  theirs  and  being  paid  for  it  into  the 
bargain.  Let  us  put  men  into  Congress  who  will 
cover  the  seas  with  our  ships  again,  as  well  as 
make  our  harbors  impassable  with  a  competition  of 
cheap  ferry-boats.  Begin  here,  as  you  began  here 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  69 

more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  as  you  sue- 
ceeded  then  you  will  succeed  now. 

"  Begin,  and  go  on,  and  God  prosper  you ;  and 
when  the  work  is  done,  when  bribery  and  extor 
tion  and  all  corruption  are  crushed  forever  out  of 
our  public  life,  when  the  Navigation  Act  is  a  thing 
of  the  past,  and  you  are  again  the  carriers  of  the 
world's  commerce  as  well  as  the  greatest  sharers 
in  it,  then  it  will  be  time  enough  to  give  a  name 
to  the  men  who  shall  have  done  all  these  things, 
Republicans  and  Democrats  together,  a  new  party, 
the  last  and  the  greatest  of  all  parties  that  the 
country  has  ever  seen.  You  will  find  a  name, 
surely  enough,  that  will  answer  the  purpose  then ; 
but  whatever  that  name  may  be,  it  will  not  be  for 
gotten  that,  for  the  third  time  in  the  history  of  our 
land,  Massachusetts  has  struck  the  first  and  the 
strongest  blow  in  the  struggle  for  liberty,  honor, 
and  truth." 

Few  men  in  public  life  had  as  good  a  right  as 
John  Harrington  to  denounce  all  manner  of  dis 
honesty.  Many  a  speaker  would  have  raised  a 
sneering  laugh  by  that  last  phrase,  but  even  John's 
enemies  admitted  that  his  hands  were  clean.  Com 
ing  from  one  of  themselves  it  was  a  strong  appeal, 
and  the  applause  was  long  and  loud.  With  a 
courteous  inclination  John  turned  and  left  the 
platform  through  the  door  at  the  back. 

He  was  well  enough  satisfied.  His  hearers  had 
been  moved  for  a  moment  to  enthusiasm.  They 
would  go  home  and  on  mature  reflection  would  not 


70  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

agree  with  him ;  but  a  blow  struck  is  a  point  in 
the  fight  so  long  as  it  is  felt  at  all,  and  John  was 
well  pleased  at  the  reception  he  had  met  with. 
He  had  avoided  every  detail,  and  had  confined 
himself  to  the  widest  generalities,  but  his  homely 
illustrations  would  not  be  forgotten,  and  his  strong 
individuality  had  created  a  sincere  desire  in  many 
who  had  been  there  that  night  to  hear  him  speak 
again. 

For  some  minutes  after  John  had  left  the  plat 
form,  Josephine  sat  unmoved  in  her  seat  beside 
her  aunt,  lost  in  thought  as  she  watched  the  surg 
ing  crowd  below. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Schenectady,  *'  you  have 
heard  John  Harrington  now."  Joe  started.  She 
had  grown  used  to  the  implied  interrogation  her 
aunt  usually  conveyed  in  that  way. 

"  He  is  a  great  man,  Aunt  Zoe,"  she  said  quietly, 
and  looked  round.  There  was  a  moisture  in  her 
beautiful  brown  eyes  that  told  of  great  excitement. 
She  was  very  pale  too,  and  looked  tired. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  Aunt  Zoruiah.  "  But  we 
had  better  go  home  right  away,  Joe  darling.  You 
are  so  pale,  I  suppose  you  must  be  a  good  deal 
used  up." 

"  Allow  me  to  see  you  to  your  carriage,"  said 
Pocock  Vancouver  in  dulcet  tones,  coming  up  to 
the  two  ladies  as  they  rose. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  WHY  can't  you  get  in,  Mr.  Vancouver  ? "  in 
quired  Miss  Schenectady,  when  she  and  Joe  were 
at  last  packed  into  the  deep  booby.  It  was  simply 
a  form  of  invitation.  There  was  no  reason  why 
Mr.  Vancouver  should  not  get  in,  and  with  a  word 
of  thanks  he  did  so.  Ten  minutes  later  the  three 
were  seated  round  the  fire  in  Miss  Schenectady's 
di^  wing-room. 

"  It  was  very  fine,  was  it  not,  Miss  Thorn  ?  " 
said  Vancouver. 

"  Yes,"  said  Joe,  staring  at  the  fire. 

"There  are  some  people,"  said  Miss  Schenec 
tady,  "  it  does  not  seem  to  make  much  difference 
what  they  say,  but  it  is  always  fine." 

"  Is  that  ironical  ?  "  asked  Vancouver. 

"  Why,  goodness  gracious  no  !  Of  course  not ! 
I  am  John  Harrington's  very  best  friend.  I  only 
mean  to  say." 

"  What,  Aunt  Zoe  ?  "  inquired  Joe,  not  yet  al 
together  accustomed  to  the  peculiar  implications 
of  her  aunt's  language. 

"  Why,  what  I  said,  of  course ;  it  sounds  very 
fine." 

"  Then  you  do  not  believe  it  all  ?  "  asked  Van 
couver. 


72  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN, 

"  I  don't  understand  politics,"  said  the  old  lady. 
"  You  might  ring  the  bell,  Joe,  and  ask  Sarah  for 
some  tea." 

"  Nobody  understands  politics,"  said  Vancouver. 
"  When  people  do,  there  will  be  an  end  of  them. 
Politics  consist  in  one  half  of  the  world  trying 
to  drive  paradoxes  down  the  throats  of  the  otner 
half." 

Joe  laughed  a  little. 

"  I  do  not  know  anything  about  politics  here," 
she  said,  "  though  I  do  at  home,  of  course.  I  must 
say,  though,  Mr.  Harrington  did  not  seem  so  very 
paradoxical." 

"  Oh  no,"  answered  Vancouver,  blandly,  "  I  did 
not  mean  in  this  case.  Harrington  is  very  much 
in  earnest.  But  it  is  like  war,  you  see.  When 
every  one  understands  it  thoroughly,  it  will  stop 
by  universal  consent.  Did  you  ever  read  Bul- 
wer's  '  Coming  Race '  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Joe.  "  I  always  read  those  books. 
Vril,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  you  mean?  Oh 
yes." 

"Approximately,"  answered  Vancouver.  "  It 
was  an  allegory,  you  know.  A  hundred  years 
hence  people  will  write  a  book  to  explain  what 
Bulwer  meant.  Vril  stands  for  the  cumulative 
power  of  potential  science,  of  course." 

"  I  think  Bulwer's  word  shorter,  and  a  good  deal 
easier  to  understand,"  said  Joe,  laughing. 

"  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  great,"  remarked 
Miss  Schenectady.  "  Sarah,  I  think  you  might 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  73 

bring  us  some  tea,  please,  and  ask  John  if  he 
could  n't  stir  the  furnace  a  little.  And  then  to 
have  people  explain  you.  Goethe  must  be  a  good 
deal  amused,  I  expect,  when  people  write  books 
to  prove  that  Byron  was  Euphorion."  Miss  Sche- 
nectady  was  fond  of  German  literature,  and  the 
extent  of  her  reading  was  a  constant  surprise  to 
her  niece. 

"  What  a  lot  of  things  you  know,  Aunt  Zoe  !  " 
said  Joe.  "  But  what  had  Bulwer  to  do  with  war, 
Mr.  Vancouver  ?  " 

"  Oh,  in  the  book  —  the  '  Coming  Race,'  you 
know  —  they  abolished  war  because  they  could  kill 
eadh  other  so  easily." 

"  How  nice  that  would  be !  "  exclaimed  Joe,  look 
ing  at  him. 

"  Why,  you  perfectly  shock  me,  Joe,"  cried  Miss 
Schenectady. 

"  I  mean,  to  have  no  war,"  returned  Joe,  sweetly. 

"  Oh  ;  I  belonged  to  the  Peace  Conference  my 
self,"  said  her  aunt,  immediately  pacified.  "  Well, 
yes.  Perhaps  you  could  bring  us  a  little  cake, 
Sarah  ?  War  is  a  terrible  thing,  my  dear,  as  Mr. 
Vancouver  will  tell  you." 

Vancouver,  however,  was  silent.  He  probably 
did  not  care  to  have  it  remembered  that  he  was  old 
enough  to  carry  a  musket  in  the  Rebellion.  Joe 
understood  and  asked  no  questions  about  it,  and 
Vancouver  was  grateful  for  her  tact.  She  rose  and 
began  to  pour  out  some  tea. 

"  You  began  talking   about   Mr.    Harrington's 


74  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

speech,'*  said  she  presently,  "  but  we  got  away  from 
the  subject.  Is  it  all  true  ?  " 

"  That  is  scarcely  a  fair  question,  Miss  Thorn," 
answered  Vancouver.  "  You  see,  I  belong  to  the 
opposite  party  in  politics." 

"  But  Mr.  Harrington  said  he  wanted  both  par 
ties  to  combine.  Besides,  you  do  not  take  any 
active  part  in  it  all." 

"  I  have  very  strong  opinions,  nevertheless,"  re 
plied  Pocock. 

"Strong  opinions  and  activity  ought  to  go  to 
gether,"  said  Joe. 

"Not  always." 

"  But  if  you  have  strong  opinions  and  disagree 
with  Mr.  Harrington,"  persisted  Miss  Thorn,  "  then 
you  have  a  strong  opinion  against  your  two  parties 
acting  together  for  the  common  good." 

"  Not  exactly  that,"  said  Vancouver,  embarrassed 
between  the  directness  of  Joe's  question  and  a  very 
strong  impression  that  he  had  better  not  say  any 
thing  against  John  Harrington. 

"  Then  what  do  you  believe  ?  Will  you  please 
give  this  cup  to  Miss  Schenectady?  " 

Vancouver  rose  quickly  to  escape. 

"Cream  and  sugar,  Miss  Schenectady?"  he 
said.  "  Ah,  Miss  Thorn  has  already  put  them  in. 
It  is  such  celebrated  tea  of  yours  !  Do  you  know, 
I  always  look  forward  to  a  cup  of  it  as  one  of  the 
greatest  pleasures  in  life  !  " 

"When  you  have  quite  done  praising  the  tea, 
will  you  please  tell  me  what  you  believe  about  Mr. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  ^5- 

Harrington's  speech  ? "  said  the  inexorable  Joe, 
drowning  her  aunt's  reply  to  Vancouver's  polite 
remark. 

Thus  cornered,  Vancouver  faced  the  difficulty. 

"  I  believe  it  was  a  very  good  speech,"  he  said 
mildly. 

"  Do  you  believe  what  he  said  was  true  ?  " 

"  A  great  deal  of  it  was  true,  but  I  assure  you 
that  Harrington  is  very  enthusiastic.  Much  of  it 
was  extremely  imaginative." 

"  I  dare  say ;  all  that  about  making  a  Civil  Ser 
vice,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  exactly.  I  think  all  good  Republi 
cans  hope  to  have  a  regular  Civil  Service  some 
day.  It  is  necessary,  or  will  be  so  before  long." 

"  But  then  it  is  what  he  said  about  that  ridicu 
lous  Navigation  Act  that  you  object  to  ?  "  pursued 
Joe,  without  mercy. 

"  Really,  I  think  it  would  be  an  advantage  to 
repeal  it.  It  is  only  kept  up  for  the  sake  of  a  few 
builders  who  have  influence." 

"  Ah,  I  see,"  exclaimed  Joe  triumphantly,  "  you 
think  the  hope  he  expressed  that  bribery  and  that 
sort  of  thing  might  be  suppressed  was  altogether 
imaginary  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,  Miss  Thorn.  But  I  am  sure  there 
is  not  nearly  so  much  of  it  as  he  made  out.  It  was 
a  very  great  exaggeration." 

"  Was  there  ?  Really,  he  only  used  the  word 
once  in  the  most  general  way.  I  remember  very 
well,  at  the  end ;  he  said,  '  when  bribery,  corrupt 


76  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

tion,  and  all  extortion  are  crushed  forever  ; '  any 
body  might  say  that !  " 

"  You  make  out  a  wonderfully  good  case,  Miss 
Thorn,"  said  Vancouver,  who  was  not  altogether 
pleased  ;  "  was  the  speech  printed  before  Harring 
ton  spoke  it  this  evening  ?  " 

"  No !  "  exclaimed  Joe.  "  I  have  a  very  good 
memory,  in  that  way,  just  to  remember  what  I 
hear.  I  could  repeat  word  for  word  everything  he 
said,  and  everything  you  have  said  since  during 
the  evening." 

"  What  a  terrible  person  you  are  !  "  said  Van 
couver,  smiling  pleasantly.  "  Well,  then,  now  that 
you  have  proved  every  vrord  of  Harrington's  speech 
out  of  an  opponent's  evidence,  I  will  tell  you 
frankly  how  it  is  that  I  do  not  agree  with  him. 
He  is  a  Democrat,  I  am  a  Republican.  That  is 
the  whole  story.  I  do  not  believe,  nor  shall  I  ever 
believe,  that  any  large  number  of  the  two  parties 
can  work  together.  I  cannot  help  my  belief  in  the 
least ;  it  is  a  matter  of  conscience.  Nevertheless, 
I  have  a  very  great  respect  for  Harrington,  and  as 
I  take  no  active  part  whatever  in  any  political  con 
test,  my  opinion  of  his  politics  will  never  interfere 
with  my  personal  feeling  for  him." 

Frankness  seemed  to  be  Mr.  Vancouver's  strong 
point.  Joe  was  obliged  to  admit  that  he  spoke 
clearly,  even  if  she  did  not  greatly  respect  his  logic. 
During  all  this  time,  Miss  Schenectady  had  been 
sipping  her  tea  in  silence. 

"  Joe,"  she  said  at  last,  "  you  are  a  perfect  Soc- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  77 

rates  for  questions.  You  ought  to  have  been  a 
lawyer." 

"  I  wish  I  were,"  said  Joe,  laughing,  "  or  Soc 
rates  himself." 

"  Yes,  you  ought  to  have  been.  Here  you  know 
nothing  at  all  about  this  thing,  and  you  have  been 
talking  like  anything  for  half  an  hour.  I  think 
Socrates  was  perfectly  horrid." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Vancouver,  laughing  aloud. 

"  Why  ?  "  Joe  asked,  turning  to  her  aunt. 

"  To  be  always  stopping  people  in  the  street,  and 
button-holing  them  with  his  questions.  Of  course 
it  was  very  clever,  as  Plato  makes  it  out ;  but  I  do 
\fish  he  could  have  met  me  —  when  I  was  young, 
my  dear.  I  would  have  answered  him  once  and 
for  all ! " 

"  Try  me,  Aunt  Zoe,  for  practice,"  said  Joe, 
"  until  you  meet  him.'5 

"  Really,  I  expect  you  would  do  almost  as  well. 
Look  at  Mr.  Vancouver,  he  is  quite  used  up." 

The  case  was  not  so  serious  with  Mr.  Vancouver 
as  the  old  lady  made  it  out  to  be.  He  was  silent 
and  to  all  intents  vanquished  for  the  present,  but 
it  was  not  long  before  he  turned  the  conversation 
to  other  things,  and  succeeded  in  making  himself 
very  agreeable.  He  admired  Josephine  very  much, 
and  though  she  occasionally  made  him  feel  very 
uncomfortable,  he  always  returned  to  the  charge 
with  renewed  intelligence  and  sweetness.  Joe  liked 
him  too,  in  spite  of  an  unfounded  suspicion  she 
felt  that  he  was  dangerous.  He  was  always  ready 


78  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

when  she  needed  anything  at  a  party ;  he  never 
bored  her,  but  whenever  he  saw  she  was  wearied 
by  any  one  else  he  came  up  and  saved  her,  clear 
ing  a  place  for  himself  at  her  side  with  an  ease 
that  bespoke  long  and  constant  experience  of  the 
world.  Women,  especially  young  women,  always 
like  men  of  that  description  ;  they  are  flattered  at 
the  attention  of  a  man  who  is  so  evidently  able  to 
choose,  and  they  enjoy  the  immunity  from  all  an 
noyance  and  weariness  that  such  men  are  able  to 
carry  with  them. 

Consequently  Joe  accepted  the  attentions  of 
Pocock  Vancouver  with  a  certain  amount  of  satis 
faction,  and  she  had  not  been  displeased  that  he 
should  come  to  Miss  Schenectady's  house  for  tea. 
The  evening  passed  quickly,  and  Vancouver  took 
his  leave.  As  he  opened  the  front  door  to  let  him 
self  out  he  nearly  fell  over  a  small  telegraph  mes 
senger. 

"  Thorn  here  ?  "  inquired  the  boy,  laconically. 

u  Yes,  I  '11  take  it  in,"  said  Vancouver  quickly. 
He  went  back  with  the  telegram,  and  the  boy  stood 
inside  the  door  waiting  for  the  receipt.  He  noticed 
the  stamp  of  the  Cable  Office  on  the  envelope. 

"  Miss  Thorn,"  said  Vancouver,  entering  the 
drawing-room  again,  hat  in  hand,  "  I  just  met  this 
telegram  on  the  steps,  so  I  brought  it  in.  It  may 
need  an  answer,  you  know." 

"  Thanks,  so  much,"  said  Joe,  tearing  open  the 
pale  yellow  cover.  She  was  startled,  not  being 
accustomed  to  receive  telegrams.  Her  brow  con- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  79 

tracted  as  she  read  the  contents,  and  she  tapped 
her  small  foot  on  the  carpet  impatiently. 

THORN,  care  Schenectady, 

Beacon,  Boston. 
Sailed  to-day.  RONALD. 

Josephine  crushed  the  paper  in  her  hand  and 
signed  the  receipt  with  the  pencil  Vancouver  of- 
fered  her. 

"Thanks,  so  much,"  she  said  again,  but  in  a 
different  tone  of  voice. 

"  Any  answer  ?  "  suggested  Vancouver. 
*  "  Thanks,   no,"  answered   Joe.      "  Good  -  night 
again." 

"  Good-night."  And  Vancouver  departed,  won 
dering  what  the  message  could  have  been. 

Miss  Schenectady  had  looked  on  calmly  through 
out  the  little  scene,  and  nodded  to  Pocock  as  he 
left  the  room ;  her  peculiarities  were  chiefly  those 
of  diction  ;  she  was  a  well-bred  old  lady,  not  with 
out  wisdom. 

"Nothing  wrong,  Joe?"  she  inquired,  when 
alone  with  her  niece. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  answered  Joe.  "  Ronald  has 
just  sailed  from  England.  I  suppose  he  will  be 
here  in  ten  days." 

"  Business  here  ?  "  asked  Miss  Schenectady. 

"  Oh  dear,  no !  He  knows  nothing  about  busi 
ness.  I  wish  he  would  stay  at  home.  What  a 
bore!" 


80  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

It  was  evident  that  Joe  had  changed  her  mind 
since  she  had  written  to  Ronald  a  fortnight  before. 
It  seemed  to  her  now,  when  she  looked  forward  to 
Surbiton's  coming,  that  he  would  not  find  his 
place  in  Boston  society  so  easily  as  she  had  done. 
Of  course  he  would  expect  to  see  her  every  day, 
and  to  spend  all  his  leisure  hours  at  Miss  Schenec- 
tady's  house.  Whatever  she  happened  to  be  do 
ing,  it  would  always  be  necessary  to  take  Ronald 
into  consideration,  and  the  prospect  did  not  please 
her  at  all. 

Ronald  was  a  dear  good  fellow,  of  course,  and 
she  meant  to  marry  him  in  the  end  —  at  least,  she 
probably  would.  But  then,  she  intended  to  marry 
him  at  a  more  convenient  season,  some  time  in  the 
future.  She  knew  him  well,  and  she  was  certain 
that  when  he  saw  her  surrounded  by  her  Boston 
acquaintances,  his  British  nature  would  assert  it 
self,  and  he  would  claim  her,  or  try  to  claim  her, 
and  persuade  her  to  go  away.  She  bid  Miss 
Schenectady  good  night,  and  went  to  her  room  ; 
and  presently,  when  she  was  sure  every  one  was  in 
bed  in  the  house,  she  stole  down  to  the  drawing- 
room  again,  and  sat  alone  by  the  remains  of  the 
coal-fire,  thinking  what  she  should  do. 

Josephine  Thorn  was  young  and  more  full  of 
life  and  activity  than  most  girls  of  her  age.  She 
enjoyed  what  came  in  her  way  to  enjoy  with  a 
passionate  zest,  and  she  had  the  reputation  of  be 
ing  somewhat  capricious  and  changeable.  But  she 
was  honest  in  all  her  thoughts,  and  very  clear- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  81 

sighted.  People  often  said  she  spoke  her  mind  too 
freely,  and  was  not  enough  in  awe  of  the  veiled 
deity  known  in  society  as  "  The  Thing."  How 
she  hated  it !  How  many  times  she  had  been  told 
that  what  she  said  and  did  was  not  quite  "The 
Thing."  She  knew  now  what  Ronald  would  say 
when  he  came,  if  he  found  her  worshiped  on  all 
sides  by  Pocock  Vancouver  and  his  younger  and 
less  accomplished  compeers.  Ronald  would  say 
"  it  was  rather  rough,  you  know." 

She  sat  by  the  fire  and  thought  the  matter  over, 
and  when  she  came  to  formulating  in  her  mind  the 
exact  words  that  Ronald  would  say,  she  paused  to 
tlnnk  of  him  and  how  he  would  look.  He  was 
handsome  —  far  handsomer  than  Vancouver  or  — 
or  John  Harrington.  He  was  very  nice  ;  much 
nicer  than  Vancouver.  John  Harrington  was  dif 
ferent,  "  nice  "  did  not  describe  him  ;  but  Ronald 
was  nicer  than  all  the  other  men  she  knew.  He 
would  make  a  charming  husband.  At  the  thought 
Joe  started. 

"  My  husband  !  "  she  repeated  aloud  to  herself 
in  the  silence.  Then  she  rose  quickly  to  her  feet 
and  leaned  against  the  smooth  white  marble  man 
telpiece,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  small  white 
hands  for  an  instant. 

"  Oh  no,  no,  no,  no  !  "  she  cried  aloud.  "  It  is 
impossible  ;  oh  no  !  never !  I  never  really  meant 
it ;  did  I  ? "  She  stared  at  herself  in  the  glass 
for  a  few  seconds,  and  her  face  was  very  pale. 
Then  she  bent  over  her  hands  again,  and  the  tears 
6 


82  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

came  and  wetted  them  a  little,  and  at  last  she  sat 
down  as  she  had  sat  before,  and  stared  vacantly  at 
the  fire. 

It  would  be  very  wrong  to  break  Ronald's  heart, 
she  thought.  He  would  come  to  her  so  full  of 
hope  and  gladness ;  how  could  she  tell  him  she  did 
not  love  him  ? 

But  how  was  it  possible  that  in  all  these  years 
she  had  never  before  understood  that  she  could 
not  marry  him  ?  It  had  always  seemed  so  natural 
to  marry  Ronald.  And  yet  she  must  have  always 
really  felt  just  as  she  did  to-night ;  only  she  had 
never  realized  it,  never  at  all.  Why  had  it  come 
over  her  so  suddenly  too?  It  would  have  been  so 
much  better  if  she  could  have  seen  the  truth  at 
home,  before  she  parted  from  him  ;  for  it  would 
be  so  hard  for  him  to  bear  it  now,  after  coming 
across  the  ocean  to  see  her  —  so  cruelly  hard. 
Dear  Ronald  ;  and  yet  he  must  be  told. 

Yes,  there  was  no  doubt  about  it,  the  very  first 
meeting  must  explain  it  to  him.  He  would  say 
—  what  would  he  say  ?  He  would  tell  her  she 
liked  some  one  else  better. 

Some  one  else !  Some  ojie  who  had  stolen  away 
her  heart ;  of  course  he  would  say  that.  But  he 
would  be  wrong,  for  there  was  no  one  else,  not  one 
of  all  these  men  she  had  seen,  who  had  so  much  as 
breathed  a  word  of  love  to  her.  None  whom  she 
liked  nearly  so  much  as  Ronald,  no,  not  one. 

For  a  long  time  she  sat  very  quietly,  following 
a  train  of  thought  that  was  half  unconscious.  Her 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  83 

lips  moved  now  and  then,  as  though  she  were  re 
peating  something  to  herself,  and  gradually  the 
pained  and  anxious  expression  of  her  face  melted 
away  into  a  look  of  peace. 

The  old  gilt  clock  upon  the  chimney-piece  struck 
twelve  in  its  shrill  steel  tones.  Josephine  started 
at  the  sound,  and  passed  one  hand  over  her  eyes 
as  though  to  rouse  herself,  and  at  the  same  time  a 
deep  blush  spread  over  her  delicate  cheek.  For 
with  the  voice  of  midnight  there  was  also  the  voice 
of  a  man  ringing  in  her  ears,  and  she  heard  the 
two  together,  so  that  it  seemed  as  though  all  the 
w^prld  must  hear  them  also,  and  her  gentle  maiden's 
soul  was  shamed  at  the  thought. 

So  it  is  that  our  loves  are  always  with  us,  and 
though  we  search  ourselves  diligently  to  find  them 
and  rebuke  them,  we  find  them  not ;  but  if  we 
give  up  searching  they  come  upon  us  unawares, 
and  speak  very  soft  words.  Love  also  is  a  gentle 
thing,  full  of  sweetness  and  peace,  when  he  comes 
to  us  so  ;  and  though  the  maiden  blushes  at  his 
speaking,  she  would  not  stop  the  ears  of  her  heart 
against  him  for  all  the  world  ;  and  although  the 
boy  trembles  and  turn  pale,  and  forgets  to  be  boy 
ish  when  the  fit  is  on  him,  nevertheless  he  goes 
near  and  worships,  and  loses  his  heart  in  learning 
a  new  language.  So  kind  and  soft  is  love,  so  ten 
der  and  sweet-spoken,  that  you  would  think  he 
would  not  so  much  as  ruffle  the  leaf  of  a  rose, 
nor  breathe  too  sharply  on  a  violet,  lest  he  should 
hurt  the  flower-soul  within  ;  and  if  you  treat  him 


84  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

hospitably  he  is  kind  to  the  last,  so  that  when  he 
is  gone  there  is  still  a  sweet  savor  of  him  left 
But  if  you  would  drive  him  roughly  away  with 
scorn  and  rude  language,  he  will  stand  at  your 
door  and  will  not  leave  you.  Then  his  wings  drop 
from  him,  and  he  grows  strong  and  fierce,  and 
deadly  and  beautiful,  as  the  fallen  archangel  of 
heaven,  crying  aloud  bitter  things  to  you  by  day 
and  night ;  till  at  the  last  he  will  break  down  bolt 
and  bar  and  panel,  and  enter  your  chamber,  and 
drag  you  out  with  him  to  your  death  in  the  wild 
darkness. 

But  Josephine  blushed  deeply  there  in  the  old- 
fashioned  drawing-room  at  midnight,  and  as  she 
turned  away  she  wondered  at  herself,  for  she  could 
not  believe  nor  understand  what  was  happening. 

Poor  girl !  She  had  talked  of  love  so  often  as 
an  abstract  thing,  she  had  seen  so  many  love- 
makings  of  others,  and  so  many  men  had  tried  to 
make  love  to  her  in  her  short  brilliant  life,  and  she 
had  always  thought  it  could  not  come  near  her, 
because,  of  course,  she  really  loved  Ronald.  She 
had  marveled,  indeed,  at  what  people  were  will 
ing  to  do,  and  at  what  they  were  ready  to  sacrifice, 
for  a  feeling  that  seemed  to  her  of  such  little  im 
portance  as  that.  It  had  been  an  illusion,  and  the 
waking  had  come  at  last  very  suddenly.  Who 
ever  it  might  be  whom  she  was  destined  to  take,  it 
was  not  Ronald.  It  was  madness  to  think  she 
could  be  bound  forever  to  him,  however  much  she 
might  admire  him  and  desire  him  as  a  friend. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  85 

When  the  clock  struck  she  was  thinking  of 
John,  and  the  words  he  had  said  that  night  to 
his  great  audience  were  ringing  again  in  her  ears. 
She  blushed  indeed  at  the  idea  that  she  was 
thinking  so  much  of  him,  but  it  was  not  that  she 
believed  she  loved  him.  If  as  yet  she  really  did, 
she  was  herself  most  honestly  unconscious  of  it ; 
and  so  the  blush  was  not  accounted  for  in  the  reck 
oning  she  made. 

She  lay  awake  long,  trying  to  determine  what 
was  best  to  be  done,  but  she  could  not.  One  thing 
she  must  do ;  she  must  explain  to  Ronald,  when 
h^  came,  that  she  could  never,  never  marry  him. 

If  only  she  had  a  sister,  or  some  one !  Dear 
Aunt  Zoruiah  was  so  horrid  about  such  things  that 
it  was  impossible  to  talk  to  her  I 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  skate  ?  "  Sybil  Brandon 
asked  of  Joe  as  the  two  young  girls,  clad  in  heavy 
furs,  walked  down  the  sunny  side  of  Beacon  Street 
two  days  later.  They  were  going  from  Miss  Sche- 
nectady's  to  a  "  lunch  party  "  —  one  of  those  social 
institutions  of  Boston  which  had  most  surprised 
Joe  on  her  first  arrival. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Joe.  "  I  do  not  know 
anything,  but  I  can  do  everything." 

"  How  nice !  "  said  Sybil.  "  Then  you  can  go 
with  us  to-night.  That  will  be  too  lovely  !  " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  We  are  all  going  skating  on  Jamaica  Pond. 
Nobody  has  skated  for  so  long  here  that  it  is  a 
novelty.  I  used  to  be  so  fond  of  it." 

"  We  always  skate  at  home,  when  there  is  ice," 
said  Joe.  "It  will  be  enchanting  though,  with 
the  full  moon  and  all.  What  time  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Sam  Wyndham  will  arrange  that,"  said 
Sybil.  "  She  is  going  to  matronize  us." 

"  How  dreadful,  to  have  to  be  chaperoned !  " 
ejaculated  Joe.  "  But  Mrs.  Wyndham  is  very  jol 
ly  after  all,  so  it  does  not  much  matter." 

"  I  believe  they  used  to  have  Germans  here 
without  any  mothers,"  remarked  Sybil,  "  but  they 
never  do  now." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  87 

"  Poor  little  things,  how  awfully  lonely  for 
them  !  "  laughed  Joe. 

"Who?" 

"  The  Germans  —  without  their  mothers.  Oh, 
I  forgot  the  German  was  the  cotillon.  You  mean 
cotillons,  without  tapestry,  as  we  say." 

"  Yes,  exactly.  But  about  the  skating  party. 
It  will  be  very  select,  you  know;  just  ourselves. 
You  know  I  never  go  out,"  Sybil  added  rather  sad 
ly,  "  but  I  do  love  skating  so." 

"  Who  are  '  ourselves  '  —  exactly  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  and  I,  and  the  Sam  Wyndhams, 
and  the  Aitchison  girls,  and  Mr.  Topeka,  and  Mr. 
Harrington,  and  Mr.  Vancouver  —  let  me  see  — 
and  Miss  St.  Joseph,  and  young  Hannibal.  He 
is  very  nice,  and  is  very  attentive  to  Miss  St. 
Joseph." 

"  Is  it  nice,  like  that,  skating  about  in  couples  ?  " 
asked  Joe. 

"  No ;  that  is  the  disagreeable  part ;  but  the 
skating  is  delicious." 

"  Let  us  stay  together  all  the  time,"  said  Joe 
spontaneously,  "  it  will  be  ever  so  much  pleasanter. 
I  would  not  exactly  like  to  be  paired  off  with  any 
of  those  men,  you  know." 

Sybil  looked  at  Joe,  opening  her  wide  blue  eyes 
in  some  astonishment.  She  did  not  think  Joe  was 
exactly  one  of  those  young  women  who  object  to  a 
moonlight  tSte-d-tete,  if  properly  chaperoned. 

"  Yes,  if  you  like,  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  would 
like  it  much  better  myself,  of  course." 


88  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Do  you  know,  Sybil,"  said  Joe,  looking  up  at 
her  taller  companion,  "I  should  not  think  you 
would  care  for  skating  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Why?  "asked  Sybil. 

"  You  do  not  look  strong  enough.  You  are  not 
a  bit  like  me,  brought  up  on  horseback." 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  strong,"  answered  Sybil,  "  only 
I  am  naturally  pale,  you  see,  and  people  think  I 
am  delicate." 

But  the  north  wind  kissed  her  fair  face  and  the 
faint  color  came  beneath  the  white  and  through  it, 
so  that  Joe  looked  at  her  and  thought  she  was  the 
fairest  woman  in  the  world  that  day. 

"  When  I  was  a  little  girl,"  said  Joe,  "  mamma 
used  to  tell  me  a  story  about  the  beautiful  Snow 
Angel ;  she  must  have  been  just  like  you,  dear." 

"  What  is  the  story?  "  asked  Sybil,  the  delicate 
color  in  her  cheek  deepening  a  little. 

"  I  will  tell  you  to-night  when  we  are  skating, 
we  have  not  time  now.  Here  we  are."  And  the 
two  girls  went  up  the  steps  of  the  house  where  they 
were  going  to  lunch. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  street  Pocock  Vancouver 
and  John  Harrington  met,  and  stopped  to  speak 
just  as  Joe  and  Sybil  had  rung  the  bell,  and  stood 
waiting  at  the  head  of  the  steps. 

"  Don't  let  us  look  at  each  other  so  long  as  we 
can  look  at  them,"  said  Vancouver,  shaking  hands 
with  John,  but  looking  across  the  street  at  the  two 
girls.  John  looked  too,  and  both  men  bowed. 

"  They  are  pretty  enough  for  anything,  are  they 
not  ?  "  continued  Vancouver. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  89 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  "  they  are  very  pretty." 

With  a  nod  and  a  smile  Joe  and  Sybil  disap 
peared  into  the  house. 

"  Why  don't  you  marry  her  ? "  asked  Van 
couver. 

"  Which  ?     The  English  girl  ?  " 

"  No ;  Sybil  Brandon." 

"  Thank  you,  I  am  not  thinking  of  being  mar 
ried,"  said  John,  a  half -comic,  half -contemptuous 
look  in  his  strong  face.  "  Miss  Brandon  could  do 
better  than  marry  a  penniless  politician,  and  be 
sides,  even  if  I  wanted  it,  I  care  too  much  for  Miss 
Brandon's  friendship  to  risk  losing  it  by  asking  her 
to*  marry  me." 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Vancouver, 
"  she  would  accept  you  straight  off.  So  would  the 
other." 

"  You  ought  to  know,"  said  John,  eyeing  his 
companion  calmly. 

Vancouver  looked  away  ;  it  was  generally  be 
lieved  that  he  had  been  refused  by  Miss  Brandon 
more  than  a  year  previous. 

"  Well,  you  can  take  my  word  for  it,  you  could 
not  do  better,"  he  answered,  ambiguously.  "  There 
is  no  knowing  how  the  moonlight  effects  on  Jamai 
ca  Pond  may  strike  you  this  evening.  I  say, 
though,  you  were  pretty  lucky  in  having  such 
warm  weather  the  night  before  last." 

"  Yes,"  said  John.  "  The  house  was  full.  Were 
you  there  ?  " 

"Of   course.     If   I   were   not  a  Republican   I 


90  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

would  congratulate  you  on  your  success.  It  is  a 
long  time  since  any  one  has  made  a  Boston  au 
dience  listen  to  those  opinions.  You  did  it  sur 
prisingly  well ;  that  sentence  about  protection  was 
a  masterpiece.  I  wish  you  were  one  of  us." 

"  It  is  of  no  use  arguing  with  you,"  said  John. 
"  If  it  were,  I  could  make  a  Democrat  of  you  in  an 
afternoon." 

"  I  make  a  pretty  good  thing  of  arguing, 
though,"  answered  the  other.  "  It 's  my  trade,  you 
see,  and  it  is  not  yours.  You  lay  down  the  law ;  it 
is  my  business  to  make  a  living  out  of  it." 

"  I  wish  I  could  lay  it  down,  as  you  say,  and 
lay  it  down  according  to  my  own  ideas,"  said 
John.  "  I  would  have  something  to  say  to  you 
railroad  men." 

"  As  for  that,  I  should  not  care.  Railroad  law 
is  stronger  than  iron  and  more  flexible  than  india- 
rubber,  and  the  shape  of  it  is  of  no  importance 
whatever.  So  long  as  there  is  enough  of  it  to 
work  with,  you  can  twist  it  and  untwist  it  as  much 
as  you  please." 

John  laughed. 

"  It  would  simplify  matters  to  untwist  it  and  cut 
it  up  into  lengths,"  he  said.  "  But  then  your  oc 
cupation  would  be  gone." 

"  I  think  my  occupation  will  last  my  life-time," 
answered  Vancouver,  laughing  in  his  turn. 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,"  returned  John.  "  But 
we  can  provide  you  with  another.  Good-by.  I 
am  going  to  Cambridge." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  91 

They  shook  hands  cordially,  and  John  Harring 
ton  turned  down  Charles  Street,  while  Vancouver 
pursued  his  way  up  the  hill.  He  had  been  going 
in  the  opposite  direction  when  he  met  Harrington, 
but  he  seemed  to  have  changed  his  mind.  He  was 
not  seen  again  that  day  until  he  went  to  dine  with 
Mrs.  Sam  Wyndham. 

There  was  no  one  there  but  Mr.  Topeka  and 
young  John  C.  Hannibal,  well-dressed  men  of  five- 
and-thirty  and  fi  ve-and-twenty  respectively,  belong 
ing  to  good  families  of  immense  fortune,  and  edu 
cated  regardless  of  expense.  No  homely  Boston 
phrase  defiled  their  anglicized  lips,  their  great  col- 
lai*s  stood  up  under  their  chins  in  an  ecstasy  of 
stiffness,  and  their  shirt-fronts  bore  two  buttons, 
avoiding  the  antiquity  of  three  and  the  vulgarity 
of  one.  Well-bred  Anglo-maniacs  both,  but  gen 
tlemen  withal,  and  courteous  to  the  ladies.  Mr. 
Topeka  was  a  widower.  John  C.  Hannibal  was 
understood  to  be  looking  for  a  wife. 

They  came,  they  dined,  and  they  retired  to  Sam 
Wyndham's  rooms  to  don  their  boots  and  skating 
clothes.  At  nine  o'clock  the  remaining  ladies  ar 
rived,  and  then  the  whole  party  got  into  a  great 
sleigh  and  were  driven  rapidly  out  of  town  over 
the  smooth  snow  to  Jamaica  Pond.  John  Har 
rington  had  not  come,  and  only  three  persons 
missed  him  —  Joe  Thorn,  Mrs.  Sam,  and  Pocock 
Vancouver. 

The  ice  had  been  cut  away  in  great  quantities 
for  storing  and  the  thaw  had  kept  the  pond  open 


92  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

for  a  day  or  two.  Then  came  the  sharpest  frost 
of  the  winter,  and  in  a  few  hours  the  water  was 
covered  with  a  broad  sheet  of  black  ice  that  would 
bear  any  weight.  It  was  a  rare  piece  of  good  for 
tune,  but  the  fashion  of  skating  had  become  so 
antiquated  that  no  one  took  advantage  of  the  op 
portunity  ;  and  as  the  party  got  out  of  the  sleigh 
and  made  their  way  down  the  bank,  they  saw  that 
there  was  but  one  skater  before  them,  sweeping  in 
vast  solitary  circles  out  in  the  middle  of  the  pond, 
under  the  cold  moonlight.  The  party  sat  on  the 
bank  in  the  shadow  of  some  tall  pine  trees,  prepar 
ing  for  the  amusement,  piling  spare  coats  and 
shawls  on  the  shoulders  of  a  patient  groom,  and 
screwing  and  buckling  their  skates  on  their  feet. 

"  What  beautiful  ice ! "  exclaimed  Joe,  when 
Vancouver  had  done  his  duty  by  the  straps  and 
fastenings.  She  tapped  the  steel  blade  twice  or 
thrice  on  the  hard  black  surface,  still  leaning  on 
Vancouver's  arm,  and  then,  without  a  word  of 
warning,  shot  away  in  a  long  sweeping  roll.  The 
glorious  vitality  in  her  was  all  alive,  and  her  blood 
thrilled  and  beat  wildly  in  utter  enjoyment.  She 
did  not  go  far  at  first,  but  seeing  the  others  were 
long  in  their  preparations,  she  turned  and  faced 
them,  skating  away  backwards,  leaning  far  over  to 
right  and  left  on  each  changing1  stroke,  and  listen 
ing  with  intense  pleasure  to  the  musical  ring  of 
the  clanging  steel  on  the  clean  ice.  Some  pride 
she  felt,  too,  at  showing  the  little  knot  of  Bosto- 
nians  how  thoroughly  at  home  she  was  in  a  sport 
they  seemed  to  consider  essentially  American. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  93 

Joe  had  not  noticed  the  solitary  skater,  and 
thought  herself  alone,  but  in  a  few  moments  she 
was  aware  of  a  man  in  an  overcoat  bowing  before 
her  as  he  slackened  his  speed.  She  turned  quickly 
to  one  side  and  stopped  herself,  for  the  man  was 
John  Harrington. 

"  Why,  where  did  you  come  from,  Mr.  Har 
rington  ? "  she  asked  in  some  astonishment.  "  You 
were  not  hidden  under  the  seats  of  the  sleigh,  were 
you?" 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  John,  looking  about  for  the 
rest  of  the  party.  "  I  was  belated  in  Cambridge 
this  afternoon,  so  I  borrowed  a  pair  of  skates  and 
wtlked  over.  Splendid  ice,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  came,"  said  Joe.  She  was 
in  such  high  spirits  and  was  so  genuinely  pleased 
at  meeting  John  that  she  forgot  to  be  cold  to  him. 
"  It  would  have  been  a  dreadful  pity  to  have 
missed  this." 

"  It  would  indeed,"  said  John,  skating  slowly 
by  her  side. 

For  down  by  the  pine  trees  two  or  three  figures 
began  to  move  on  the  ice. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you,  Mr.  Harrington,"  said 
Joe. 

"  What  for,  Miss  Thorn  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  For  the  pleasure  you  gave  me  the  other  night," 
she  answered.  "  I  have  not  seen  you  since  to  speak 
to.  It  was  splendid  !  " 

"  Thanks,"  said  John.  "  I  saw  you  there,  in  the 
gallery  on  my  left." 


94  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Yes ;  but  how  could  you  have  time  to  look 
about  and  recognize  people  ?  You  must  have 
splendid  eyes." 

"  It  is  all  a  habit,"  said  John.  "  When  one 
has  been  before  an  audience  a  few  times  one  does 
not  feel  nervous,  and  so  one  has  time  to  look  about. 
Do  you  care  for  that  sort  of  thing,  Miss  Thorn  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ever  so  much.  But  I  was  frightened  once, 
when  they  began  to  grumble." 

"  There  was  nothing  4  fear,"  said  John,  laugh 
ing.  "  Audiences  of  that  kind  do  not  punctuate 
one's  speeches  with  cabbages  and  rotten  eggs." 

"  They  do  sometimes  in  England,  said  Joe. 
"  But  here  come  the  others  !  " 

Two  and  two,  in  a  certain  grace  of  order,  the 
little  party  came  out  from  the  shore  into  the  moon 
light.  The  women's  faces  looked  white  and  waxen 
against  their  rich  furs,  and  the  moonbeams  sparkled 
on  their  ornaments.  A  very  pretty  sight  is  a 
moonlight  skating  party,  and  Pocock  Vancouver 
knew  what  he  was  saying  when  he  hinted  at  the 
mysterious  and  romantic  influences  that  are  likely 
to  be  abroad  on  such  occasions.  Indeed,  it  was  not 
long  before  young  Hannibal  was  sliding  away  hand 
in  hand  with  Miss  St.  Joseph  at  a  pace  that  did 
not  invite  competition.  And  Mr.  Topeka  decided 
which  of  the  Aitchison  girls  he  preferred,  and 
gave  her  his  arm,  so  that  the  other  fell  to  the  lot 
of  Sam  Wyndham,  while  Mrs.  Sam  and  Sybil 
Brandon  came  out  escorted  by  Vancouver,  who  no 
ticed  with  some  dismay  that  the  party  was  "  a  man 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  95 

short."  The  moment  he  saw  Joe  talking  to  the 
solitary  skater,  he  knew  that  the  latter  must  be 
Harrington,  who  had  gone  to  Cambridge  and  come 
across.  John  bowed  to  every  one  and  shook  hands 
with  Mrs.  Wyndham.  Joe  eluded  Vancouver  and 
put  her  arm  through  Sybil's,  as  though  to  take 
possession  of  her. 

Joe  would  have  been  well  enough  pleased  at 
first  to  have  been  left  with  John,  but  the  sight  of 
Vancouver  somehow  reminded  her  of  the  compact 
she  had  made  in  the  morning  with  Sybil,  and  in  a 
few  moments  the  two  girls  were  away  together, 
talking  so  persistently  to  each  other  that  Vancou 
ver,  who  at  first  followed  them  and  tried  to  join 
their  conversation,  was  fain  to  understand  that 
he  was  not  wanted,  so  that  he  returned  to  Mrs. 
Wyndham. 

"  I  want  so  much  to  talk  to  you,"  Joe  began, 
when  they  were  alone. 

"  Yes,  dear  ?  "  said  Sybil  half  interrogatively,  as 
they  moved  along.  "  We  can  talk  here  charm 
ingly,  unless  Mr.  Vancouver  comes  after  us  again. 
But  you  do  skate  beautifully,  you  know.  I  had  no 
idea  you  could." 

"  Oh,  I  told  you  I  could  do  everything,"  said 
Joe,  with  some  pride.  "  TV  here  did  you  get  that 
beautiful  fur,  my  dear  ?  It  is  magnificent.  You 
are  just  like  the  Snow  Angel  now." 

"  In  Russia.  Everybody  wears  white  fur  there, 
you  know.  We  were  in  St.  Petersburg  some 
time." 


96  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"I  know.  We  cannot  get  it  in  England.  If 
one  could  I  would  have  told  Ronald  to  bring  me 
some  when  he  comes." 

"  Who  is  Ronald  ?  "  asked  Sybil  innocently. 

"Oh,  he  is  the  dearest  boy,"  said  Joe,  with 
a  little  sigh,  "  but  I  do  so  wish  he  were  not  com- 
ing!" 

"  Because  he  has  not  got  the  white  fur  ?  "  sug 
gested  Sybil. 

"  Oh  no  !  But  because  "  —  Joe  lowered  her 
voice  and  spoke  demurely,  at  the  same  time  linking 
her  arm  more  closely  in  Sybil's.  "  You  see,  dear, 
he  wants  to  marry  me,  and  I  am  afraid  he  is  com 
ing  to  say  so." 

"  And  you  do  not  want  to  marry  him  ?  Is  that 
it?" 

Joe's  small  mouth  closed  tightly,  and  she  merely 
nodded  her  head  gravely,  looking  straight  before 
her.  Sybil  pressed  her  arm  sympathetically  and 
was  silent,  expecting  more. 

"  It  was  such  a  long  time  ago,  you  see,"  said 
Joe,  after  a  while.  "  I  was  not  out  when  it  was 
arranged,  and  it  seemed  so  natural  But  now  — 
it  is  quite  different." 

"  But  of  course,  if  you  do  not  love  him,  you  must 
not  think  of  marrying  him,"  said  Sybil,  simply. 

"  I  won't,"  answered  Joe,  with  sudden  emphasis. 
"  But  I  shall  have  to  tell  him,  you  know,"  she 
added  despondently. 

"  It  is  very  hard  to  say  those  things,"  said 
Sybil,  in  a  tone  of  reflection.  "  But  of  Bourse  it 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  97 

must  be  done  —  if  you  were  really  engaged,  that 
is." 

"  Yes,  almost  really,'*  said  Joe. 

"  Not  quite  ?  "  suggested  Sybil. 

"  I  think  not  quite  ;  but  I  know  he  thinks  it  is 
quite  quite,  you  know." 

"  Well,  but  perhaps  he  is  not  so  certain,  after 
all.  Do  you  know,  I  do  not  think  men  really  care 
so  much ;  do  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course  not,"  said  Joe  scornfully.  "  But 
it  does  not  seem  quite  honest  to  let  a  man  think 
you  are  going  to  marry  him  if  you  do  not  mean 

to.'; 

"  But  you  did  mean  to,  dear,  until  you  found 
out  you  did  not  care  for  him  enough.  And  just 
think  how  dreadful  it  would  be  to  be  married  if 
you  did  not  care  enough  !  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,"  answered  Joe.  "  It  would 
be  dreadful  for  him  too." 

"  When  is  he  coming  ?  "  asked  Sybil. 

"  I  think  next  week.  He  sailed  the  day  before 
yesterday." 

"  Then  there  is  plenty  of  time  to  settle  on  what 
you  want  to  say,"  said  Sybil.  "  If  you  make  up 
your  mind  just  how  to  put  it,  you  know,  it  will 
be  ever  so  much  easier." 

"  Oh  no !  "  cried  Joe.  "  I  will  trust  to  luck. 
I  always  do  ;  it  is  much  easier." 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss  Brandon,"  said  the  voice  of 
Vancouver,  who  came  up  behind  them  at  a  great 
pace,  and  holding  his  feet  together  let  himself  slide 
7 


98  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

rapidly  along  beside  the  two  girls,  —  "  excuse  me, 
but  do  you  not  think  you  are  very  unsociable,  go 
ing  off  in  this  way  ?  " 

"  May  I  give  you  my  arm,  Miss  Thorn  ?  "  asked 
Harrington,  coming  up  on  the  other  side. 

Without  leaving  each  other  Joe  and  Sybil  took 
the  proffered  arms  of  the  two  men,  and  the  four 
skated  smoothly  out  into  the  middle  of  the  ice, 
that  rang  again  in  the  frosty  air  under  their  joint 
weight.  Mrs.  Wyndham  had  insisted  that  Van 
couver  and  Harrington  should  leave  her  and  follow 
the  young  girls,  and  they  had  obeyed  in  mutual 
understanding. 

"  Which  do  you  like  better,  Miss  Brandon,  boat 
ing  in  Newport  or  skating  on  Jamaica  Pond?" 
asked  Vancouver. 

"  This  is  better  than  the  Music  Hall,  is  it  not  ?  " 
remarked  John  to  Miss  Thorn. 

"Oh,  Jamaica  Pond,  by  far,"  Sybil  answered, 
and  her  hold  on  Joe's  arm  relaxed  a  very  little. 

"  Oh  no !  I  would  a  thousand  times  rather  be  in 
the  Music  Hall ! "  exclaimed  Joe,  and  her  hand 
slipped  away  from  Sybil's  white  fur.  And  so  the 
four  were  separated  into  couples,  and  went  their 
ways  swiftly  under  the  glorious  moonlight.  As 
they  parted  Sybil  turned  her  head  and  looked  after 
Joe,  but  Joe  did  not  see  her. 

"  I  would  rather  be  here,"  said  John  quietly. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Joe. 

"  There  is  enough  fighting  in  life  to  make  peace 
a  very  desirable  thing  sometimes,"  John  answered 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  99 

"A  man  cannot  be  always  swinging  his  battle- 
axe."  There  was  a  very  slight  shade  of  despond 
ency  in  the  tone  of  his  voice.  Joe  noticed  it  at 
once. 

Women  do  not  all  worship  success,  however 
much  they  may  wish  their  champion  to  win  when 
they  are  watching  him  fight.  In  the  brilliant,  un 
failing,  all-conquering  man,  the  woman  who  loves 
him  feels  pride  ;  if  she  be  vain  and  ambitious,  she 
feels  wholly  satisfied,  for  the  time.  But  woman's 
best  part  is  her  gentle  sympathy,  and  where  there 
is  no  room  at  all  for  that,  there  is  very  often  little 
ro$m  for  love.  In  the  changing  hopes  and  fears 
of  uncertain  struggles,  a  woman's  love  well  given 
and  truly  kept  may  turn  the  scale  for  a  man,  and 
it  is  at  such  times,  perhaps,  that  her  heart  is  given 
best,  and  most  loyally  held  by  him  who  has  it. 

"  I  wish  I  could  do  anything  to  help  him  to  suc 
ceed,"  thought  Joe,  in  the  innocent  generosity  of 
her  half-conscious  devotion. 

"  Has  anything  gone  wrong  ? "'  she  asked  aloud. 


CHAPTER  VH. 

"  HAS  anything  gone  wrong  ?  " 

There  was  so  much  of  interest  and  sympathy  in 
her  tone,  as  Joe  put  the  simple  question,  that  John 
turned  and  looked  into  her  face.  The  magic  of 
moonlight  softens  the  hardest  features,  makes  in 
terest  look  like  friendship,  and  friendship  like 
love  ;  but  it  can  harden  too  at  times,  and  make  a 
human  face  look  like  carved  stone. 

"  No,  there  is  nothing  wrong,"  John  answered 
presently  ;  "  what  made  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  You  spoke  a  little  regretfully,"  answered  Joe. 

"  Did  I  ?  I  did  not  mean  to.  Perhaps  one  is 
less  gay  and  less  hopeful  at  some  times  than  at 
others.  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  success  or  fail 
ure." 

"  I  know,"  answered  Joe.  "  One  can  be  dread 
fully  depressed  when  one  is  enjoying  one's  self  to 
any  extent.  But  I  should  not  have  thought  you 
were  that  sort  of  person.  You  seem  always  the 
same." 

"  I  try  to  be.  That  is  the  great  difference  be 
tween  people  who  live  to  work  and  people  who  live 
to  amuse  and  be  amused." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean,"  said  John,  "  that  people  who  work 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  101 

especially  people  who  have  to  do  with  large  ideas 
and  great  movements,  need  to  be  more  or  less 
monotonous.  The  men  who  succeed  are  the  men 
of  one  idea,  or  at  least  they  are  the  men  who  only 
have  one  idea  at  a  time." 

"Whereas  people  who  live  to  amuse  and  be 
amused  must  have  as  many  ideas  as  possible  "  — 

"  Yes,  to  play  with,"  said  John,  completing  the 
sentence.  "  Their  life  is  play,  their  ideas  are  their 
playthings,  and  so  soon  as  they  have  spoiled  one 
toy  they  must  have  another.  The  people  who  sup 
ply  ideas  to  an  idle  public  are  very  valuable,  and 
may  have  great  power." 

"Novel-writers,  and  that  sort  of  people,"  sug 
gested  Joe. 

"  All  producers  of  light  literature  and  second- 
rate  poetry,  and  a  very  great  variety  of  other  peo 
ple  besides.  A  man  who  amuses  others  may  often 
be  a  worker  himself.  He  raises  a  laugh  or  excites 
a  momentary  interest  by  getting  rid  of  his  super 
fluous  ideas  and  imaginations,  reserving  to  himself 
all  the  time  the  one  idea  in  which  he  believes." 

"Not  at  all  a  bad  theory,"  said  Joe. 

"  There  are  more  men  of  that  sort  with  you  in 
Europe  than  with  us.  You  need  more  amusement, 
and  you  will  generally  give  more  for  it.  You 
English,  who  are  uncommonly  fond  of  doing  noth 
ing,  give  yourselves  vast  trouble  in  the  pursuit 
of  pleasure.  We  Americans,  who  are  ill  when  we 
are  idle,  are  content  to  surround  ourselves  with 
the  paraphernalia  of  pleasure  when  office  hours 


102  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

are  over ;  but  we  make  very  little  use  of  our  op 
portunities  for  amusement,  being  tired  out  at  the 
end  of  the  day  with  other  things  which  we  think 
more  important.  The  result  is  that  we  have  no 
such  thing  as  what  you  denominate  '  Society,'  be 
cause  we  lack  the  prime  element  of  aristocratic 
social  intercourse,  the  ingrained  determination  to 
be  idle." 

"  You  are  very  hard  on  us,"  remarked  Joe. 

"Excuse  me,"  returned  John,  "you  are  com 
pensated  by  having  what  we  have  not.  Europeans 
are  the  most  agreeable  people  in  the  world,  wher 
ever  mutual  and  daily  conversation  and  intercourse 
are  to  be  considered.  The  majority  of  you,  of  po 
lite  European  society,  are  not  troubled  with  any 
very  large  ideas,  but  you  have  an  immense  num 
ber  of  very  charming  and  attractive  small  ones. 
In  America  there  are  only  two  ideas  that  practi 
cally  affect  society,  but  they  are  very  big  ones 
indeed." 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Joe  laconically,  growing  inter 
ested  in  John's  queer  lecture. 

"  Money  and  political  influence,"  answered  John 
Harrington.  "  They  are  the  two  great  motors  of 
our  machine.  All  men  who  are  respected  among 
us  are  in  pursuit  of  one  or  the  other,  or  have  at 
tained  to  one  or  the  other  by  their  own  efforts. 
The  result  is,  that  European  society  is  amusing 
and  agreeable ;  whereas  Americans  of  the  same 
class  are  more  interesting,  less  polished,  better 
acquainted  with  the  general  laws  that  govern  the 
development  of  nations." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  103 

M  Really,  Mr.  Harrington,"  said  Joe,  "  you  are 
making  us  out  to  be  very  insignificant.  And  I 
think  it  would  be  very  dull  if  we  all  had  to  under 
stand  ever  so  many  general  laws.  Besides,  I  do 
not  agree  with  you." 

"  About  what,  Miss  Thorn  ?  " 

"  About  Americans.  They  talk  better  than  Eng 
lishmen,  as  a  rule." 

"  But  I  am  comparing  Americans  with  the  whole 
mass  of  Europeans,"  John  objected.  "  The  Eng* 
lish  are  a  rather  silent  race,  I  should  say." 

"  Cold,  you  think  ?  "  suggested  Joe. 

"  No,  not  cold.  Perhaps  less  cold  than  we  are  ; 
bftit  less  demonstrative." 

"  I  like  that,"  answered  Joe.  "  I  like  people  to 
feel  more  than  they  show." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  John.  "  Why  should  not  peo 
ple  be  perfectly  natural,  and  show  when  they  feel 
anything,  or  be  cold  when  they  do  not  ?  " 

"  I  think  when  you  know  some  one  feels  a  great 
deal  and  hides  it,  that  gives  one  the  idea  of  re- 
rerved  strength." 

They  had  reached  a  distant  part  of  the  ice,  and 
were  slowly  skating  round  the  limits  of  a  little 
bay,  where  the  slanting  moonbeams  fell  through 
tall  old  trees  upon  the  glinting  black  surface. 
They  were  quite  alone,  only  in  the  distance  they 
could  hear  the  long-drawn  clang  and  ring  of  the 
other  skaters,  echoing  all  along  the  lake  with  a 
tremulous  musical  sound  in  the  still  bright  night. 

"  You  must  be  very  cold  yourself,  Mr.  Harring- 


104  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

ton,"  Joe  began  again  after  a  pause,  stopping  and 
looking  at  him. 

John  laughed  a  little. 

"  I  ?  "  he  cried.  "  No,  indeed,  I  am  the  most 
enthusiastic  man  alive." 

"  You  are  when  you  are  speaking  in  public," 
said  Joe.  "  But  that  may  be  all  comedy,  you 
know.  Orators  always  study  their  speeches,  with 
all  the  gestures  and  that,  before  a  glass,  don't 
they?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  John.  "  Of  course  I 
know  by  heart  what  I  am  going  to  say,  when  I 
make  a  speech  like  that  of  the  other  evening,  but 
I  often  insert  a  great  deal  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  It  is  not  comedy.  I  grow  very  much 
excited  when  I  am  speaking." 

"  Never  at  any  other  time  ?  "  asked  Joe. 

"  Seldom ;  why  should  I  ?  I  do  not  feel  other 
things  or  situations  so  strongly." 

"  In  other  words,"  replied  Joe,  "  it  is  just  as  I 
said  ;  you  are  generally  very  cold." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  John  acquiesced,  "  since  you 
will  not  allow  the  occasions  when  I  am  not  cold  to 
be  counted." 

Joe  looked  down  as  she  stood,  and  moved  her 
skates  slowly  on  the  ice ;  the  shadows  hid  her  face. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said  presently,  "  you  lose 
a  great  deal ;  you  must,  you  cannot  help  it.  You 
only  like  people  in  a  body,  so  as  to  see  what  you 
can  do  with  them.  You  only  care  for  things  on 
a  tremendously  big  scale,  so  that  you  may  try  to 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  105 

influence  them.  When  you  have  not  a  crowd  to 
talk  to,  or  a  huge  scheme  to  argue  about,  you  are 
bored  to  extinction." 

"  No,"  said  John  ;  "  I  am  not  bored  at  present, 
by  any  means." 

"  Because  you  are  talking  about  big  things. 
Most  men  in  your  place  would  be  talking  about 
the  moonlight,  and  quoting  Shelley." 

"  To  oblige  you,  Miss  Thorn,  I  could  quote  a  lit 
tle  now  and  then,"  said  John,  laughing.  "  Would 
it  please  you  ?  I  dare  say  you  have  seen  elephants 
stand  upon  their  hind  legs  and  their  heads  alter 
nately.  I  should  feel  very  much  like  one  ;  but  I 
wMl  do  anything  to  oblige  you." 

"  That  is  frivolous,"  said  Joe,  who  did  not 
smile. 

"  Of  course  it  is.  I  am  heavy  by  nature.  You 
may  teach  me  all  sorts  of  tricks,  but  they  will  not 
be  at  all  pretty." 

"  No,  you  are  very  interesting  as  you  are,"  said 
Joe  quietly.  "  But  I  do  not  think  you  will  be 
happy." 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  happiness." 

"  What  is  it  then  ?  " 

"  Usefulness,"  said  John. 

"  You  do  not  care  to  be  happy,  you  only  care  to 
be  useful  ?  "  Joe  asked. 

"Yes.  But  my  ideas  of  usefulness  include 
many  things.  Some  of  the  people  who  listen  to 
me  would  be  very  much  astonished  if  they  knew 
what  I  dream." 


106  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Nothing  would  astonish  me,"  said  Joe,  thought 
fully.  "  Of  course  you  must  think  of  everything 
in  a  large  way  —  it  is  your  nature.  You  will  be  a 
great  man." 

John  looked  at  his  companion.  She  had  struck 
the  main  chord  of  his  nature  in  her  words,  and  he 
felt  suddenly  that  thrill  of  pleasure  which  comes 
from  the  flattery  of  our  pride  and  our  hopes.  John 
was  not  a  vain  man,  but  he  was  capable  of  being 
intoxicated  by  the  grandeur  of  a  scheme  when  the 
possibility  of  its  realization  was  suddenly  thrust 
before  him.  Like  all  men  of  exceptional  gifts 
who  are  constantly  before  the  public,  he  could  es 
timate  very  justly  the  extent  of  the  results  he  could 
produce  on  any  given  occasion,  but  his  enthusiastic 
belief  in  his  ideas  could  see  no  limit  to  the  multi 
plication  of  those  results.  His  strong  will  and 
natural  modesty  about  himself  constantly  repressed 
any  desire  he  might  have  to  speak  over-confidently 
of  ultimate  success,  so  that  the  prediction  of  ulti 
mate  success  by  some  one  else  was  doubly  sweet  to 
him.  We  Americans  have  said  of  ourselves  that 
we  are  the  only  nation  who  accomplish  what  we 
have  boasted  of.  Rash  speech  and  rash  action  are 
our  national  characteristics,  and  lead  us  into  all 
manner  of  trouble,  but  in  so  far  as  such  qualifica 
tions  or  defects  imply  a  positive  conviction  of  suc 
cess,  they  contribute  largely  to  the  realization  of 
great  schemes.  No  one  can  succeed  who  does  not 
believe  in  himself,  nor  can  any  scheme  be  realized 
winch  has  not  gained  the  support  of  a  sufficient 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  107 

number  of  men  who  believe  in  it  and  in  them 
selves. 

John  was  gratified  by  Miss  Thorn's  speech,  for 
he  saw  that  it  was  spontaneous. 

"  I  will  try  to  be  great,"  he  said,  "  for  the  sake 
of  what  I  think  is  great." 

There  was  a  short  pause,  and  the  pair  by  com 
mon  consent  skated  slowly  out  of  the  shadow  into 
the  broad  moonlight. 

"  Not  that  I  believe  you  will  be  happy  if  you 
think  of  nothing  else,"  said  Joe  presently. 

"  In  order  to  do  anything  well,  one  must  think 
of  nothing  else,"  answered  John. 

"  Many  great  men  find  time  to  be  great  and  to 
do  many  other  things,"  said  Joe.  "  Look  at  Mr. 
Gladstone ;  he  has  an  immense  private  correspond 
ence  about  things  that  interest  him,  quite  apart 
from  the  big  things  he  is  always  doing." 

"  When  a  man  has  reached  that  point  he  may 
find  plenty  of  time  to  spare,"  answered  Harring 
ton.  "  But  until  he  has  accomplished  the  main 
object  of  his  life  he  must  not  let  anything  take  him 
from  his  pursuit.  He  must  form  no  ties,  he  must 
have  no  interests,  that  do  not  conduce  to  his  suc 
cess.  I  think  a  man  who  enters  on  a  political  ca 
reer  must  devote  himself  to  it  as  exclusively  as  a 
missionary  Jesuit  attacks  the  conversion  of  unbe 
lievers,  as  wholly  as  a  Buddhist  ascetic  gives  him 
self  to  the  work  of  uniting  his  individual  intelli 
gence  with  the  immortal  spirit  that  gives  it  life." 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  said  Joe  decisively, 


108  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

and  in  her  womanly  intelligence  of  life  she  under 
stood  the  mistake  John  made.  "  I  cannot  agree 
with  you.  You  are  mixing  up  political  activity, 
which  deals  with  the  government  of  men,  with 
spiritual  ideas  and  immortality,  and  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"  How  so  ?  "  asked  John,  in  some  surprise. 

"  I  am  quite  sure,"  said  Joe,  "  that  to  govern 
man  a  man  must  be  human,  and  the  imaginary 
politician  you  tell  me  of  is  not  human  at  all." 

"  And  yet  I  aspire  to  be  that  imaginary  politi 
cian,"  said  John. 

"  Do  not  think  me  too  dreadfully  conceited," 
Joe  answered,  "  in  talking  about  such  things.  Of 
course  I  do  not  pretend  to  understand  them,  but  I 
am  quite  sure  people  must  be  like  other  people  — 
I  mean  in  good  ways  —  or  other  people  will  not 
believe  in  them,  you  know.  You  are  not  vexed, 
are  you  ?  "  She  looked  up  into  John's  face  with  a 
little  timid  smile  that  might  have  done  wonders  to 
persuade  a  less  prejudiced  person  than  Harrington. 

"  No  indeed  !  why  should  I  be  vexed  ?  But  per 
haps  some  day  you  will  believe  that  I  am  right." 

"  Oh  no,  never !  "  exclaimed  Joe,  in  a  tone  of 
profound  conviction.  "  You  will  never  persuade 
me  that  people  are  meant  to  shut  themselves  from 
their  fellow-creatures,  and  not  be  human,  and  that." 

"  And  yet  you  were  so  good  as  to  say  that  you 
thought  I  might  attain  greatness,"  said  John,  smil 
ing. 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  will.     But  you  will  change 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  109 

your  mind  about  a  great  many  things  before  you 
do." 

John's  strong  face  grew  thoughtful,  and  the 
white  moonlight  made  his  features  seem  harder 
and  sterner  than  ever.  Slowly  the  pair  glided 
over  the  polished  black  ice,  now  marked  here  and 
there  with  clean  white  curves  from  the  skates,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  they  were  once  more  within  hail 
of  the  remainder  of  their  party. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

EIGHT  days  after  the  skating  party,  Ronald  Sur- 
biton  telegraphed  from  New  York  that  he  would 
reach  Boston  the  next  morning,  and  Josephine 
Thorn  knew  that  the  hour  had  come.  She  was 
not  afraid  of  the  scene  that  must  take  place,  but 
she  wished  with  all  her  heart  that  it  were  over. 

As  Sybil  Brandon  had  told  her,  there  had  been 
time  to  think  of  what  she  should  say,  and  although 
she  had  answered  recklessly  that  she  would  "  trust 
to  luck,"  she  knew  when  the  day  was  come  that 
she  had  in  reality  thought  intensely  of  the  very 
words  which  must  be  spoken.  To  Miss  Schenec- 
tady  she  had  said  nothing,  but  on  the  other  hand 
she  had  become  very  intimate  with  Sybil,  and  to 
tell  the  truth,  she  hoped  inwardly  for  the  support 
and  sympathy  of  her  beautiful  friend. 

Meanwhile,  since  her  long  evening  with  John 
Harrington  on  the  ice,  she  had  made  every  effort 
to  avoid  his  society.  Like  many  very  young  women 
with  a  vivid  love  of  enjoyment  and  a  fairly  wide 
experience,  she  was  something  of  a  fatalist.  That 
is  to  say,  she  believed  that  her  evil  destiny  might 
spring  upon  her  unawares  at  any  moment,  and  she 
felt  something  when  she  was  with  Harrington  that 
warned  her.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  Ill 

fcnew  what  it  was  to  have  moods  of  melancholy ; 
she  caught  herself  asking  what  was  really  the  end 
and  object  of  her  gay  life,  whether  it  amounted 
to  anything  worthy  in  comparison  with  the  trou 
ble  one  had  to  take  to  amuse  one's  self,  whether  it 
would  not  be  far  better  in  the  end  to  live  like  Miss 
Schenectady,  reading  and  studying  and  caring 
nothing  for  the  world. 

Not  that  Josephine  admired  Miss  Schenectady, 
or  thought  that  she  herself  could  ever  be  like  her. 
The  old  lady  was  a  type  of  her  class  ;  intelligent 
and  well  versed  in  many  subjects  —  even  learned 
she  might  have  been  called  by  some.  But  to  Joe's 
vfew,  essentially  European  by  nature  and  educa 
tion,  it  seemed  as  though  her  aunt,  like  many  Bos- 
tonians,  judged  everything  —  literature,  music,  art 
of  all  kinds,  history  and  the  doings  of  great  men 
—  by  one  invariable  standard.  Her  comments  on 
what  she  heard  and  read  were  uniformly  delivered 
from  the  same  point  of  view,  in  the  same  tone  of 
practical  judgment,  and  with  the  same  assumption 
of  original  superiority.  It  was  the  everlasting 
"  Carthago  delenda  "  of  the  Roman  orator.  What 
ever  the  world  wrote,  sang,  painted,  thought,  or 
did,  the  conviction  remained  unshaken  in  Miss 
Schenectady's  mind  that  Beacon  Street  was  better 
than  those  things,  and  that  of  all  speeches  and 
languages  known  and  spoken  in  the  world's  his 
tory,  the  familiar  dialect  of  Boston  was  the  one 
best  calculated  by  Providence  and  nature  to  ex 
press  and  formulate  all  manner  of  wisdom. 


112  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  that  where  criticism  is  on 
the  whole  so  fair,  and  cultivation  of  the  best  facul 
ties  so  general,  the  manner  of  expressing  a  judg 
ment  and  of  exhibiting  acquired  knowledge  should 
be  such  as  to  jar  unpleasantly  on  the  sensibilities 
of  Europeans.  Where  is  the  real  difference  ?  It 
probably  lies  in  some  subtle  point  of  proportion  in 
the  psychic  chemistry  of  the  Boston  mind,  but  the 
analyist  who  shall  express  the  formula  is  not  yet 
born ;  though  there  be  those  who  can  cast  the 
spectrum  of  Boston  existence  and  thought  upon 
their  printed  screens  with  matchless  accuracy. 

Joe  judged  but  did  not  analyze.  She  said  Miss 
Schenectady  was  always  right,  but  that  the  way  she 
was  right  was  "  horrid."  Consequently  she  did 
not  look  to  her  aunt  for  sympathy  or  assistance, 
and  though  they  had  more  than  once  talked  of 
Ronald  Surbiton  since  receiving  his  cable  from 
England,  Joe  had  not  said  anything  of  her  inten 
tions  regarding  him.  When  the  second  telegram 
arrived  from  New  York,  saying  that  he  would  be 
in  Boston  on  the  following  morning,  Joe  begged 
that  Miss  Schenectady  would  be  at  home  to  re 
ceive  him  when  he  came. 

"  Well,  if  you  insist  upon  it,  I  expect  I  shall 
have  to,"  said  Miss  Schenectady.  She  did  not  see 
why  her  niece  should  require  her  presence  at  the 
interview;  young  men  may  call  on  young  ladies 
in  Boston  without  encountering  the  inevitable 
chaperon,  or  being  obliged  to  do  their  talking  in 
the  hearing  of  a  police  of  papas,  mammas,  arid 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  113 

aunts.  But  as  Joe  "  insisted  upon  it,"  as  the  old 
lady  said,  she  "  expected  there  were  no  two  ways 
about  it."  Her  expectations  were  correct,  for  Joe 
would  have  refused  absolutely  to  receive  Ronald 
alone. 

"  I  know  the  value  of  a  stern  aunt,  my  dear," 
she  had  said  to  Sybil  the  day  previous. 

When  matters  were  arranged,  therefore,  they 
went  to  bed,  and  in  the  morning  Miss  Schenectady 
sat  in  state  in  the  front  drawing-room,  reading  the 
life  of  Mr.  Ticknor  until  Ronald  should  arrive. 
Joe  was  up-stairs  writing  a  note  to  Sybil  Brandon, 
wherein  the  latter  was  asked  to  lunch  and  to  drive 
in*the  afternoon.  Ronald  could  not  come  before 
ten  o'clock  with  any  kind  of  propriety,  and  they 
could  have  luncheon  early  and  then  go  out ;  after 
which  the  bitterness  of  death  would  be  past. 

It  was  not  quite  ten  o'clock  when  Ronald  Sur- 
biton  rang  the  bell,  and  was  turned  into  the  draw 
ing-room  to  face  an  American  aunt  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life. 

"  Miss  Schenectady  ?  "  said  he,  taking  the  prof 
fered  hand  of  the  old  lady  and  then  bowing 
slightly.  He  pronounced  her  name  Shnectaydy, 
with  a  strong  accent  on  the  penultimate  syllable. 

"  Schewectady,"  corrected  his  hostess.  "  I  ex 
pect  you  are  Mr.  Surbiton." 

"A  —  exactly  so,"  said  Ronald,  in  some  em 
barrassment. 

"  Well,  we  are  glad  to  see  you  in  Boston,  Mr. 
Surbiton."  Miss  Schenectady  resumed  her  seat, 
8 


114  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

and  Ronald  sat  down  beside  her,  holding  his  hat 
in  his  hand. 

"  Put  your  hat  down,"  said  the  old  lady. 
"  What  sort  of  a  journey  did  you  have  ?  " 

"  Very  fair,  thanks,"  said  Ronald,  depositing  his 
hat  on  the  floor  beside  him,  "  in  fact  I  believe  we 
came  over  uncommonly  quick  for  the  time  of  year. 
How  is"  — 

"  What  steamer  did  you  come  by  ?  "  interrupted 
Miss  Schenectady. 

"  The  Gallia.  She  is  one  of  the  Cunarders. 
But  as  I  was  going  to  ask  "  — 

"  Yes,  an  old  boat,  I  expect.  So  you  came  on 
right  away  from  New  York  without  stopping  ?  " 

"  Exactly,"  answered  Ronald.  "  I  took  the  first 
train.  The  fact  is,  I  was  so  anxious  —  so  very 
anxious  to  "  — 

"  What  hotel  are  you  at  here  ?  "  inquired  Miss 
Schenectady,  without  letting  him  finish. 

"  Brunswick.  How  is  Miss  Thorn  ?  "  Ronald 
succeeded  at  last  in  putting  the  question  he  so 
greatly  longed  to  ask  —  the  only  one,  he  supposed, 
which  would  cause  a  message  to  be  sent  to  Joe  an 
nouncing  his  arrival. 

"  Joe  ?  She  is  pretty  well.  I  expect  she  will 
be  down  in  a  minute.  Are  you  going  to  stay  some 
while,  Mr.  Surbiton  ?  " 

Ronald  thought  Miss  Schenectady  the  most  piti 
less  old  woman  he  had  ever  met.  In  reality  she 
had  not  the  most  remote  intention  of  being  any 
thing  but  hospitable.  But  her  idea  of  hospitality 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  115 

at  a  first  meeting  seemed  to  consist  chiefly  in 
exhibiting  a  great  and  inquisitive  interest  in  the 
individual  she  wished  to  welcome.  Besides,  Joe 
would  probably  come  down  when  she  was  ready, 
and  so  it  was  necessary  to  talk  in  the  mean  time. 
At  last  Ronald  succeeded  in  asking  another  ques 
tion. 

"Excuse  the  anxiety  I  show,"  he  said  simply, 
"but  may  I  ask  whether  Miss  Thorn  is  at  home?" 

"Perhaps  if  you  rang  the  bell  I  could  send  for 
her,"  remarked  the  old  lady  in  problematic  an 
swer. 

"  Oh,  certainly ! "  exclaimed  Ronald,  springing 
to*his  feet,  and  searching  madly  round  the  room 
for  the  bell.  Miss  Schenectady  watched  him 
calmly. 

"I  think  if  you  went  to  the  further  side  of  the 
fire-place  you  would  find  it  —  back  of  the  screen," 
she  suggested. 

"Thanks;  here  it  is,"  cried  Ronald,  discovering 
the  handle  in  the  wall. 

"Yes,  you  have  found  it  now,"  said  Miss  Sche 
nectady  with  much  indifference.  "  Perhaps  you 
find  it  cold  here?"  she  continued,  observing  that 
Ronald  lingered  near  the  fire-place. 

"Oh  dear,  no,  thanks,  quite  the  contrary,"  he 
answered. 

"  Because  if  it  is  you  might  —  Sarah,  I  think 
you  could  tell  Miss  Josephine  that  Mr.  Surbiton  is 
in  the  parlor,  could  not  you  ?" 

"Oh,  if  it  is  any  inconvenience"  —  Ronald  be- 


116  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

gan,  misunderstanding  the  form  of  address  Miss 
Schenectady  used  to  her  handmaiden. 

"Why?"  asked  Miss  Schenectady,  in  some  as 
tonishment. 

"Nothing,"  said  Ronald,  looking  rather  con 
fused;  "I  did  not  quite  catch  what  you  said." 

There  was  a  silence,  and  the  old  lady  and  the 
young  man  looked  at  each  other. 

Ronald  was  a  very  handsome  man,  as  Joe  knew. 
He  was  tall  and  straight  and  deep-chested.  His 
complexion  was  like  a  child's,  and  his  fine  mous 
tache  like  silk.  His  thick  fair  hair  was  parted 
accurately  in  the  middle,  and  his  smooth,  white 
forehead  betrayed  no  sign  of  care  or  thought. 
His  eyes  were  blue  and  very  bright,  and  looked 
fearlessly  at  every  one  and  everything,  and  his 
hands  were  broad  and  clean  looking.  He  was  per 
fectly  well  dressed,  but  in  a  fashion  far  less  ex 
treme  than  that  affected  by  Mr.  Topeka  and  young 
John  C.  Hannibal.  There  was  less  collar  and  more 
shoulder  to  him,  and  his  legs  were  longer  and 
straighter  than  theirs.  Nevertheless,  had  he  stood 
beside  John  Harrington,  no  one  would  have  hesi 
tated  an  instant  in  deciding  which  was  the  stronger 
man.  With  all  his  beauty  and  grace,  Ronald  Sur- 
biton  was  but  one  of  a  class  of  handsome  and 
graceful  men.  John  Harrington  bore  on  his  square 
brow  and  in  the  singular  compactness  of  his  active 
frame  the  peculiar  sign-manual  of  an  especial  pur 
pose.  He  would  have  been  an  exception  in  any 
class  and  in  any  age.  It  was  no  wonder  Joe  had 
wished  to  compare  the  two. 


AN  AMERICAN   POLITICIAN.  117 

In  a  few  moments  the  door  opened,  and  Joe  en 
tered  the  drawing-room.  She  was  pale,  and  her 
great  brown  eyes  had  a  serious  expression  in  them 
that  was  unusual.  There  was  something  prim  in 
the  close  dark  dress  she  wore,  and  the  military  col 
lar  of  most  modern  cut  met  severely  about  her 
throat.  If  Ronald  had  expected  a  very  affection 
ate  welcome  he  was  destined  to  disappointment; 
Joe  had  determined  not  to  be  affectionate  until  all 
was  over.  To  prepare  him  in  some  measure  for 
what  was  in  store,  she  had  planned  that  he  should 
be  left  alone  for  a  time  with  Miss  Schenectady, 
whp,  she  thought,  would  chill  any  suitor  to  the 
bone. 

"My  dear  Ronald,"  said  Joe,  holding  out  her 
hand,  "I  am  so  glad  to  see  you."  Her  voice  was 
even  and  gentle,  but  there  was  no  gladness  in  it. 

"Not  half  so  glad  as  I  am  to  see  you,"  said 
Ronald,  holding  her  hand  in  his,  his  face  beaming 
with  delight  "It  seems  such  an  age  since  you 
left!" 

"It  is  only  two  months,  though,"  said  Joe,  with 
a  faint  smile.  "I  ought  to  apologize,  but  I  sup 
pose  you  have  introduced  yourself  to  Aunt  Zoe." 
She  could  not  call  her  Aunt  Zoruiah,  even  for  the 
sake  of  frightening  Ronald. 

"What  did  you  think  when  you  got  my  tele 
gram?"  asked  the  latter. 

"I  thought  it  was  very  foolish  of  you  to  run 
away  just  when  the  hunting  was  so  good,"  an 
swered  Joe,  with  decision. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"But  you  are  glad,  are  you  not?"  he  asked, 
lowering  his  voice,  and  looking  affectionately  at 
her.  Miss  Schenectady  was  again  absorbed  in  the 
life  of  Mr.  Ticknor. 

"Yes,"  said  Joe,  gravely.  "It  is  as  well  that 
you  have  come,  because  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you,  and  I  should  have  had  to  write  it.  Let  us 
go  out.  Would  you  like  to  go  for  a  walk  ? ' ' 

Ronald  was  delighted  to  do  anything  that  would 
give  him  a  chance  of  escaping  from  Aunt  Zoruiah 
and  being  alone  with  Joe. 

"I  think  you  had  best  be  back  to  lunch,"  re 
marked  Miss  Schenectady  as  they  left  the  room. 

"Of  course,  Aunt  Zoe, "  answered  Joe.  "Be 
sides,  Sybil  is  coming,  you  know."  So  they  sal 
lied  forth. 

It  was  a  warm  day ;  the  snow  had  melted  from 
the  brick  pavement,  and  the  great  icicles  on  the 
gutters  and  on  the  trees  were  running  water  in  the 
mid-day  sun.  Joe  thought  a  scene  would  be  better 
to  get  over  in  the  publicity  of  the  street  than  in 
private.  Ronald,  all  unsuspecting  of  her  inten 
tion,  walked  calmly  by  her  side,  looking  at  her 
occasionally  with  a  certain  pride,  mixed  with  a 
good  deal  of  sentimental  benevolence. 

"Do  you  know,"  Joe  began  presently,  "when 
your  cable  came  I  felt  very  guilty  at  having  writ 
ten  to  you  that  you  might  come?" 

' '  Why  ? ' '  asked  Ronald,  innocently.  ' '  You  know 
I  would  come  from  the  end  of  the  world  to  see 
you.  I  have,  in  fact. ' ' 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  119 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Joe  wearily,  wishing  she 
knew  exactly  how  to  say  what  she  was  so  thor 
oughly  determined  should  be  said. 

' '  What  is  the  matter,  Joe  ? ' '  asked  Ronald,  sud 
denly.  He  smiled  rather  nervously,  but  his  smooth 
brow  was  a  little  contracted.  He  anticipated  mis 
chief. 

"There  is  something  the  matter,  Ronald,"  she 
said  at  last,  resolved  to  make  short  work  of  the 
revelation  of  her  feelings.  "There  is  something 
very  much  the  matter. ' ' 

' '  Well  ? ' '  said  Surbiton,  beginning  to  be  alarmed. 

'fcYou  know,  Ronald  dear,  somehow  I  think  you 
have  thought— honestly,  I  know  you  have  thought 
for  a  long  time  that  you  were  to  marry  me. ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Ronald  with  a  forced  laugh,  for  he 
was  frightened.  "I  have  always  thought  so;  I 
think  so  now." 

"It  is  of  no  use  to  think  it,  Ronald  dear, ' '  said 
Joe,  turning  very  pale.  ' '  I  have  thought  of  it  too 
—thought  it  all  over.  I  cannot  possibly  marry 
you,  dear  boy.  Honestly,  I  cannot."  Her  voice 
trembled  violently.  However  firmly  she  had  de 
cided  within  herself,  it  was  a  very  bitter  thing  to 
say ;  she  was  so  fond  of  him. 

"What?"  asked  Ronald  hoarsely.  But  he 
turned  red  instead  of  pale.  It  was  rather  disap 
pointment  and  anger  that  he  felt  at  the  first  shock 
than  sorrow  or  deep  pain. 

"Do  not  make  me  say  it  again,"  said  Joe,  en- 
treatingly.  She  was  not  used  to  entreating  so 


120  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

much  as  to  commanding,  and  her  voice  quavered 
uncertainly. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  Ronald,  speaking 
loudly  in  his  anger,  and  then  dropping  his  voice 
as  he  remembered  the  passers-by,  —  "  do  you  mean 
to  tell  me,  Joe,  after  all  this,  when  I  have  come  to 
America  just  because  you  told  me  to,  *bat  you  will 
not  marry  me?  I  do  not  believe  it.  You  are 
making  fun  of  me." 

"  No,  Ronald,"  Joe  answered  sorrowfully,  but 
regaining  her  equanimity  in  the  face  of  Surbiton's 
wrath,  "  I  am  in  earnest.  I  am  very,  very  fond 
of  you,  but  I  do  not  love  you  at  all,  and  I  never 
can  marry  you." 

Ronald  was  red  in  the  face,  and  he  trod  fast 
and  angrily,  tapping  the  pavement  with  his  stick. 
He  was  very  angry,  but  he  said  nothing. 

"  It  is  much  better  to  be  honest  about  it,"  said 
Joe,  still  very  pale  ;  and  when  she  had  spoken,  her 
little  mouth  closed  tightly. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Ronald,  who  was  serious  by  this 
time  ;  "  it  is  much  better  to  be  honest,  now  that 
you  have  brought  me  three  thousand  miles  to  hear 
what  you  have  to  say  —  much  better.  By  all 
means." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Ronald,"  Joe  answered.  "  I 
really  did  not  mean  you  to  come,  and  I  am  very 
sorry,  —  oh,  more  sorry  than  I  can  tell  you,  • —  but 
I  cannot  do  it,  you  know." 

"If  you  won't,  of  course  you  can*1:,"  he  said. 
"Will  you  please  tell  me  who  he  is  i  ° 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  121 

"Who? — what?"  asked  Joe,  coldly.  She  was 
offended  at  the  tone. 

"The  fellow  you  have  pitched  upon  in  my 
place/'  he  said,  roughly. 

Joe  looked  up  into  his  face  with  an  expression 
that  frightened  him.  Her  dark  eyes  flashed  with 
an  honest  fire.  He  stared  angrily  at  her  as  they 
walked  slowly  along. 

"I  made  a  mistake,"  she  said,  slowly.  "I  am 
not  sorry.  I  am  glad.  I  would  be  ashamed  to 
marry  a  man  who  could  speak  like  that  to  any 
woman.  I  am  sorry  for  you,  but  I  am  glad  for 
myself."  She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes,  until 
he  turned  away.  For  some  minutes  they  went 
on  in  silence. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Joe,"  said  Ronald  pres 
ently,  in  a  subdued  tone. 

"Never  mind,  Ronald  dear,  I  was  angry,"  Joe 
answered.  But  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and 
her  lips  quivered. 

Again  they  went  on  in  silence,  but  for  a  longer 
time  than  before.  Joe  felt  that  the  blow  was 
struck,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to 
wait  the  result.  It  had  been  much  harder  than 
she  had  expected,  because  Ronald  was  so  angry ; 
she  had  expected  he  would  be  pained.  He,  poor 
fellow,  was  really  startled  out  of  all  self-control. 
The  idea  that  Joe  could  ever  ultimately  hesitate 
about  marrying  him  had  never  seemed  to  exist, 
even  among  the  remotest  possibilities.  But  he  was 
a  gentleman  in  his  way,  and  so  he  begged  her 


122  AN  AMERICAN   POLITICIAN. 

pardon,  and  chewed  the  cud  of  his  wrath  in  silence 
for  some  time. 

"Joe,"  he  said  at  last,  with  something  of  his 
usual  calm,  though  he  was  still  red,  "  of  course  you 
are  really  perfectly  serious.  I  mean,  you  have 
thought  about  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Joe ;   "  I  am  quite  sure." 

"Then  perhaps  it  is  better  we  should  go  home," 
he  continued. 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Joe.  "Indeed,  it  would  be 
better." 

"I  would  like  to  see  you  again,  Joe,"  he  said  in 
a  somewhat  broken  fashion.  "  I  mean,  by  and  by, 
when  I  am  not  angry,  you  know." 

Joe  smiled  at  the  simple  honesty  of  the  propo 
sition. 

"Yes,  Ronald  dear,  whenever  you  like.  You 
are  very  good,  Ronald,"  she  added. 

"  No,  I  am  not  good  at  all,"  said  Ronald  sharply, 
and  they  did  not  speak  again  until  he  left  her  at 
Miss  Schenectady's  door.  Then  she  gave  him  her 
hand. 

"I  shall  be  at  home  until  three  o'clock,"  said 
she. 

"  Thanks,"  he  answered ;  so  they  parted. 

Joe  had  accomplished  her  object,  but  she  was 
very  far  from  happy.  The  consciousness  of  having 
done  right  did  not  outweigh  the  pain  she  felt  for 
Ronald,  who  was,  after  all,  her  very  dear  friend. 
They  had  grown  up  together  from  earliest  child 
hood,  and  so  it  had  been  settled ;  for  Ronald  was 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  123 

left  an  orphan  when  almost  a  baby,  and  had  been 
brought  up  with  his  cousin  as  a  matter  of  expe 
diency.  Therefore,  as  Joe  said,  it  had  always 
seemed  so  very  natural.  They  had  plighted  vows 
when  still  in  pinafores  with  a  ring  of  grass,  and 
later  they  had  spoken  more  serious  things,  which 
it  hurt  Joe  to  remember,  and  now  they  were  suffer 
ing  the  consequence  of  it  all,  and  the  putting  off 
..childish  illusions  was  bitter. 

It  was  not  long  before  Sybil  Brandon  came  in 
answer  to  Joe's  invitation.  She  knew  what  trouble 
her  friend  was  likely  to  be  in,  and  was  ready  to  do 
anything  in  the  world  to  make  matters  easier  for 
her.  Besides,  though  Sybil  was  so  white  and  fair, 
and  seemingly  cold,  she  had  a  warm  heart,  and  had 
conceived  a  very  real  affection  for  the  impulsive 
English  girl.  Miss  Schenectady  had  retired  to  put 
on  another  green  ribbon,  leaving  the  life  of  Mr. 
Ticknor  open  on  the  table,  and  the  two  girls  met 
in  the  drawing-room.  Joe  was  still  pale,  and  the 
tears  seemed  ready  to  start  from  her  eyes. 

"  Dear  Sybil  —  it  is  so  good  of  you  to  come," 
said  she. 

Sybil  kissed  her  affectionately  and  put  her  arm 
round  her  waist.  They  stood  thus  for  a  moment 
before  the  fire. 

"  You  have  seen  him  ?  "  Sybil  asked  presently. 
Joe  had  let  her  head  rest  wearily  against  her 
friend's  shoulder,  and  nodded  silently  in  answer. 
Sybil  bent  down  and  kissed  her  soft  hair,  and 
whispered  gently  in  her  ear,  — 


124  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Was  it  very  hard,  dear  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  —  indeed  it  was !  "  cried  Joe,  hid- 
ing  her  face  on  Sybil's  breast.  Then,  as  though 
ashamed  of  seeming  weak,  she  stood  up  boldly, 
turning  slightly  away  as  she  spoke.  "  It  was 
dreadfully  hard,"  she  continued ;  "  but  it  is  all 
over,  and  it  is  very  much  better  —  very,  very 
much,  you  know." 

"I  am  so  glad,"  said  Sybil,  looking  thought 
fully  at  the  fire.  "  And  now  we  will  go  out  into 
the  country  and  forget  all  about  it  —  all  about  the 
disagreeable  part  of  it." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Joe,  who  had  recovered  her 
equanimity,  "  Ronald  may  come  tooo  You  see  he 
is  so  used  to  me  that  after  a  while  it  will  not  seem 
to  make  so  very  much  difference  after  all." 

"Of  course,  if  he  would,  said  Sybil,  "  it  would 
be  very  nice.  He  will  have  to  get  used  to  the  idea, 
and  if  he  does  not  begin  at  once,  perhaps  he  never 
may." 

"  He  will  be  just  the  same  as  ever  when  he  gets 
over  his  wrath,"  answered  Joe  confidently. 

"  Was  he  very  angry  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dreadfully  I     I  never  saw  him  so  angry." 

"  It  is  better  when  men  are  angry  than  when 
they  are  sorry,"  said  Sybil.  "  Something  like  this 
once  happened  to  me,  and  he  got  over  it  very  well. 
I  think  it  was  much  more  my  fault,  too,"  she  added 
thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  you  never  did  anything  bad  in 
your  life,"  said  Joe  affectionately.  "Nothing  half 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  125 

so  bad  as  this  —  my  dear  Snow  Angel  !  "  And  so 
they  kissed  again  and  went  to  lunch. 

"  I  suppose  you  went  to  walk,"  remarked  Miss 
Schenectady,  when  they  met  at  table. 

"  Yes,"  said  Joe,  "  we  walked  a  little." 

"  Well,  all  Englishmen  walk,  of  course,"  con 
tinued  her  aunt. 

"  Most  of  them  can,"  said  Joe,  smiling. 

"  I  mean,  it  is  a  great  deal  the  right  thing  there. 
Perhaps  you  might  pass  me  the  pepper." 

Before  they  had  finished  their  meal  the  door 
opened,  and  Ronald  Surbiton  entered  the  room. 

"  Oh  —  excuse    me,"    he   began,    "  I   did   not 


"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  Ronald," 
cried  Joe,  rising  to  greet  him,  and  taking  his 
hand.  "  Sybil,  let  me  introduce  Mr.  Surbiton  — 
Miss  Brandon." 

Sybil  smiled  and  bent  her  head  slightly.  Ron 
ald  bowed  and  sat  down  between  Sybil  and  Miss 
Schenectady. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

JOSEPHINE  THORN  never  read  newspapers,  partly 
because  she  did  not  care  for  the  style  of 
literature  known  as  journalistic,  and  parti}-,  too, 
because  the  papers  always  came  at  such  exceed 
ingly  inconvenient  hours.  If  she  had  possessed 
and  practiced  the  estimable  habit  of  "keeping  up 
with  the  times,"  she  would  have  observed  an  arti 
cle  which  appeared  on  the  morning  after  the  skat 
ing  party,  and  which  dealt  with  the  speech  John 
Harrington  had  made  in  the  Music  Hall  two  days 
previous.  Miss  Schenectady  had  read  it,  but  she 
did  not  mention  it  to  Joe,  because  she  believed  in 
John  Harrington,  and  wished  Joe  to  do  likewise, 
wherefore  she  avoided  the  subject ;  for  the  article 
treated  him  roughly.  Nevertheless,  some  unknown 
person  sent  Joe  a  copy  of  the  paper  through  the 
post  some  days  later,  with  a  bright  red  pencil 
mark  at  the  place,  and  Joe,  seeing  what  the  sub 
ject  was,  read  it  with  avidity.  As  she  read,  her 
cheek  flushed,  her  small  mouth  closed  like  a  vise, 
and  she  stamped  her  little  foot  upon  the  floor. 

It  was  evident  that  the  writer  was  greatly  in 
censed  at  the  views  expressed  by  John,  and  he 
wrote  with  an  ease  and  a  virulence  which  pro 
claimed  a  practiced  hand. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  127 

"  The  spectacle  of  an  accomplished  Democrat,** 
said  the  paper,  "  is  always  sufficiently  unusual  to 
attract  attention :  but  to  find  so  rare  a  bird  among 
ourselves  is  indeed  a  novel  delight.  The  orator 
who  alternately  enthralled  and  ir  suited  a  consider 
able  audience  at  the  Music  Hall,  two  nights  ago, 
laid  a  decided  claim  both  to  accomplishment  and 
to  democracy.  He  himself  informed  his  hearers 
that  he  was  a  Democrat ,  and,  indeed,  it  was  nec 
essary  that  he  should  state  his  position,  for  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  decide  from  the  tone  and 
quality  of  his  opinions  whether  he  were  a  social 
ist,*  a  reformer,  a  conservative,  or  an  Irishman. 
Perchance  he  has  discovered  the  talisman  by  which 
it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  be  all  four,  and  yet  to 
be  a  man.  Furthermore,  he  claims  to  be  an  ora 
tor.  No  one  could  listen  to  the  manifold  intona 
tions  of  his  voice,  or  witness  the  declamatory 
evolutions  of  his  body,  without  feeling  an  inward 
conviction  that  the  gentleman  on  the  platform  in 
tended  to  present  himself  to  us  as  an  orator. 

"  Lest  we  be  accused  of  partiality  and  preju 
dice,  we  will  at  once  state  that  we  believe  it  pos 
sible  for  a  man  to  be  singular  in  his  manner  and 
quaint  in  his  mode  of  phrasing,  and  yet  to  utter 
an  opinion  in  some  one  direction  which,  if  neither 
novel  nor  interesting,  nor  even  tenable,  shall  yet 
have  the  one  redeeming  merit  of  representing  a 
conceivable  point  of  view.  But  when  a  man  be 
gins  by  stating  that  he  belongs  to  the  Democrats 
and  then  claims  as  his  own  the  views  of  his  polit- 


128  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

ical  opponents,  winding  up  by  demanding  the  sym« 
pathy  and  support  of  a  third  party,  the  obvious 
eonclusion  is  that  he  is  either  a  lunatic,  a  charla 
tan,  or  both.  A  man  cannot  serve  God  and  Mam 
mon,  neither  can  any  man  serve  both  the  Irish  and 
Chinese. 

"  Mr.  John  Harrington  has  made  a  great  dis 
covery.  He  has  discovered  that  we  require  a  Civil 
Service.  This  is  apparently  the  ground  on  which 
he  states  himself  to  be  a  Democrat.  If  we  re 
member  rightly,  the  Civil  Service  Convention, 
which  sat  in  discussion  of  the  subject  in  the  sum 
mer  of  1881,  was  presided  over  by  a  prominent 
member  of  the  Republican  party.  As  some  time 
has  elapsed  since  then,  and  the  gentlemen  con 
nected  with  the  movement  are  as  active  and  as 
much  interested  in  it  as  ever,  our  orator  will  par 
don  us  for  questioning  his  right  of  discovery  on 
the  one  hand,  and  his  claim  to  be  considered  a 
Democrat  on  the  strength  of  it,  on  the  other.  A 
Civil  Service  is  doubtless  a  good  thing,  even  a  very 
good  thing,  and  in  due  time  we  shall  certainly 
have  it ;  but  that  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  is  on  the  verge  of  dissolution  at  the  hands 
of  our  corrupt  public  officers,  ^hat  our  finance  is 
only  another  name  for  imminent  bankruptcy,  or 
that  the  new  millennium  of  Washington  morals 
will  be  organized  by  Mr.  John  Harrington —  these 
things  we  deny  in  toto,  from  beginning  to  end.  So 
wide  and  deep  is  our  skepticism,  that  we  even 
doubt  whether  '  war,  famine,  revolution,  or  all 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  129 

three  together'  would  have  instantly  ensued  if  Mr. 
John  Harrington  had  not  delivered  his  speech  on 
Wednesday  evening. 

"  In  illustration  —  or  rather,  in  the  futile  at 
tempt  to  illustrate  —  Mr.  Harrington  put  forth  a 
series  of  similes  that  should  make  any  dead  orator 
turn  in  his  grave.  The  nation  was  successively 
held  up  to  our  admiration  in  the  guise  of  a  sick 
-man,  a  cripple,  a  banker,  a  theatrical  company, 
and  a  pedler  of  tape  and  buttons.  We  were  bank 
rupt,  diseased,  and  our  bones,  like  those  of  the 
Psalmist,  were  all  out  of  joint ;  and  if  our  hearts 
did  not  become  like  melting  wax  in  the  midst  of 
our  (bodies,  it  was  not  the  fault  of  Mr.  John  Har 
rington,  but  rather  was  it  due  to  the  hardening  of 
those  organs  against  the  voice  of  the  charmer. 

"The  Navigation  Act  called  down  the  choicest 
of  the  orator's  vessels  of  wrath.  Fools  had  made 
it,  worse  than  fools  submitted  to  it,  and  the  reason 
why  the  Salem  docks  were  no  longer  crowded  with 
the  shipping  of  the  Peabody  family  was  that  there 
were  ferry-boats  in  Boston  harbor,  a  train  of  rea 
soning  that  must  be  clear  to  the  mind  of  the  merest 
schoolboy.  Mr.  Harrington  further  stated  that 
these  same  ferry-boats  —  not  to  mention  certain 
articles  he  terms  'mudscows,'  with  which  we  have 
no  acquaintance  —  are  built  of  old  timber,  copper, 
and  nails,  obtained  by  breaking  up  the  fleets  of 
the  Peabody  family,  which  is  manifestly  a  fraud 
on  the  nation.  As  far  as  the  ferry-boats  are  con 
cerned,  we  believe  we  are  in  a  position  to  state 
9 


130  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

that  they  are  not  built  of  old  material ;  as  regards 
the  aforesaid  'mudscows'  we  can  give  no  opinion, 
not  having  before  heard  of  the  article,  which  we 
presume  is  not  common  in  commerce,  and  may 
therefore  be  regarded  as  an  exception  to  the  uni 
versal  rule  that  things  in  general  should  not  be 
made  of  old  timber,  copper,  and  rusty  nails. 

' '  We  will  not  weary  our  readers  with  any  further 
attempt  at  unraveling  the  opinions,  illustrations, 
and  rhetoric  of  Mr.  John  Harrington,  Democrat 
and  orator.  The  possession  of  an  abundant  vocab 
ulary  without  any  especial  use  for  it  in  the  shape 
of  an  idea  will  not  revolutionize  modern  govern 
ment,  whatever  may  be  the  opinion  of  the  indi 
vidual  so  richly  gifted ;  nor  will  any  accomplished 
Democrat  find  a  true  key  to  success  in  following  a 
course  of  politics  which  consists  in  one  half  of  the 
world  trying  to  drive  paradoxes  down  the  throat 
of  the  other  half.  It  will  not  do,  and  Mr.  Har 
rington  will  find  it  out.  He  will  find  out  also  that 
the  differences  which  exist  between  the  Republican 
and  the  Democratic  parties  are  far  deeper  and 
wider  than  he  suspects,  and  do  not  consist  in  such 
things  as  the  existence  or  non-existence  of  a  Civil 
Service,  free  trade,  or  mudscows ;  and  when  these 
things  are  forever  crushed  out  of  his  imagination 
it  will  be  time  enough  to  give  him  a  name,  seeing 
he  is  neither  Republican  nor  Democrat,  nor  Tam 
many,  nor  even  a  Stalwart,  nor  a  three-hundred- 
and-sixer — seeing,  in  fact,  that  he  is  not  an  astro 
nomical  point  in  any  political  heaven  with  which 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  131 

the  world  is  acquainted,  but  only  the  most  nebu 
lous  of  nebulae  which  have  yet  come  within  our 
observation." 

Joe  read  the  article  rapidly,  and  then  read  the 
last  paragraph  again  and  threw  the  paper  aside. 
She  sat  by  the  fire  after  breakfast,  and  Miss  Sche- 
nectady  had  come  into  the  room  several  times  and 
had  gone  out  again,  busied  with  much  housekeep 
ing.  For  Miss  Schenectady  belonged  to  the  elder 
school  of  Boston  women,  who  "  see  to  things " 
themselves  in  the  intervals  of  literature,  gossip, 
and  transcendental  philosophy.  But  Joe  sat  still 
for  nearly  half  an  hour  after  she  had  done  reading 
ancf  nursed  her  wrath,  while  she  toasted  her  little 
feet  at  the  fire.  At  last  she  made  up  her  mind 
and  rose. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  Sybil,  Aunt  Zoe,"  she  said, 
meeting  the  old  lady  at  the  door. 

"  Well,  if  she  is  up  at  this  time  of  day,"  an 
swered  Miss  Schenectady. 

"  Oh,  I  fancy  so,"  said  Joe. 

Mrs.  Sam  Wyndham's  establishment  was  of  the 
modern  kind,  and  nobody  was  expected  to  attend 
an  early  breakfast  of  fish,  beefsteaks,  buckwheat 
cakes,  hot  rolls,  tea,  coffee,  and  chocolate  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Visitors  did  as  they 
pleased,  and  so  did  Mrs.  Sam,  and  they  met  at 
luncheon,  a  meal  which  Sam  Wyndham  himself 
was  of  course  unable  to  attend.  Joe  knew  this, 
and  knew  she  was  certain  to  find  Sybil  alone.  It 
was  Sybil  she  wanted  to  see,  and  not  Mrs.  Wynd* 


132  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

ham.  But  as  she  walked  down  Beacon  Street  the 
aspect  of  affairs  changed  in  her  mind. 

Joe  had  not  exaggerated  when  she  said  to  Van 
couver  that  she  had  a  very  good  memory,  and  it 
would  have  been  better  for  him  if  he  had  remem 
bered  the  fact.  Joe  had  not  forgotten  the  conver 
sation  with  him  in  the  evening  after  Harrington's 
speech,  and  in  reading  the  article  that  had  been 
sent  to  her  she  instantly  recognized  a  phrase,  word 
for  word  as  Vancouver  had  uttered  it.  In  speak 
ing  to  her  he  had  said  that  politics  "  consisted  in 
one  half  of  the  world  trying  to  drive  paradoxes 
down  the  throat  of  the  other  half."  It  was  true 
that  in  the  article  John  Harrington  was  warned 
that  he  would  discover  the  fallacy  of  this  proposi 
tion,  but  in  Joe's  judgment  this  did  not  constitute 
an  objection.  Vancouver  had  written  the  article, 
and  none  other ;  Vancouver,  who  professed  a 
boundless  respect  for  John,  and  who  constantly  as 
serted  that  he  took  no  active  part  whatever  in  poli 
tics.  It  was  inconceivable  that  the  coincidence  of 
language  should  be  an  accident.  Vancouver  had 
made  the  phrase  when  making  conversation,  and 
had  used  it  in  his  article  ;  Joe  was  absolutely  cer 
tain  of  that,  and  being  full  of  her  discovery  and  of 
wrath,  she  was  determined  to  consult  with  her 
dearest  friend  as  to  the  best  way  of  revenging  the 
offense  on  its  author. 

But  as  she  walked  down  Beacon  Street  she  re 
flected  on  the  situation.  She  was  sure  Sybil  would 
not  understand  why  she  cared  so  much,  and  Sybil 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  133 

would  form  hasty  ideas  as  to  the  interest  Joe  took 
in  Harrington.  That  would  never  do.  It  would 
be  better  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Sam  Wyndham,  who 
was  herself  so  fond  of  John  that  she  wo  Id  seize 
with  avidity  on  the  information,  from  whatever 
source  it  came.  But  then  Mrs.  Wyndham  was 
fond  of  Vancouver  also.  No,  she  was  not.  When 
Joe  thought  of  it  she  was  sure  that  though  Van 
couver  was  devoted  to  Mrs.  Sam,  Mrs.  Sam  did 
not  care  for  him  excepting  as  an  agreeable  person 
of  even  temper,  who  was  useful  in  society.  But 
for  Harrington  she  had  a  real  friendship.  If  it 
«ame  to  the  doing  of  a  service,  Mrs.  Wyndham 
would  do  it.  Joe's  perceptions  were  wonderfully 
clear  and  just. 

But  when  she  reached  the  house  she  was  still 
uncertain,  and  she  passed  on,  intending  to  turn 
back  and  go  in  as  soon  as  she  had  made  up  her 
mind.  In  spite  of  all  that  she  could  argue  to  her 
self  it  seemed  unsafe  —  unwise,  at  least.  Sybil 
might  laugh  at  her,  after  all ;  Mrs.  Wyndham 
might  possibly  tell  Vancouver  instead  of  telling 
John.  It  would  be  better  to  tell  John  herself ; 
she  remembered  having  once  spoken  to  him  about 
Vancouver,  and  she  could  easily  remind  him  of  the 
conversation.  She  would  probably  see  him  that 
evening  at  a  party  she  was  going  to ;  and  yet  it 
was  so  hard  to  have  to  keep  it  all  to  herself  for  so 
many  hours,  instead  of  telling.  Nevertheless  she 
would  go  and  see  Sybil,  taking  care,  of  course,  to 
say  nothing  about  the  article. 


134  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

At  the  time  Joe  was  walking  up  and  down  Bea 
con  Street  in  the  effort  to  come  to  a  decision,  John 
Harrington  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  very 
much  more  formidable  problem.  He  stood  before 
the  fire-place  in  his  rooms  in  Charles  Street,  with 
an  extinguished  cigar  between  his  teeth,  his  face 
paler  than  usual,  and  a  look  of  uncertainty  on  his 
features  that  was  oddly  out  of  keeping  with  his 
usual  mood.  He  wore  an  ancient  shooting  coat, 
and  his  feet  were  trust  into  a  pair  of  dingy  leather 
slippers ;  his  hands  were  in  his  pockets,  and  he  was 
staring  vacantly  at  the  clock. 

On  the  oak  writing-table  that  filled  the  middle 
of  the  room  lay  an  open  telegram.  It  was  dated 
from  Washington,  and  conveyed  the  simple  infor 
mation  that  Senator  Caleb  Jenkins  had  died  at 
five  o'clock  that  morning.  It  was  signed  by  an 
abbreviation  that  meant  nothing  except  to  John 
himself.  The  name  of  the  senator  was  itself  fic 
titious,  and  stood  for  another  which  John  knew. 

The  table  was  covered  with  Government  reports, 
for  when  the  message  came  John  was  busy  study 
ing  a  financial  point  of  importance  to  him.  The 
telegram  had  lain  on  the  table  for  half  an  hour, 
and  John  still  stood  before  the  fire-place,  staring 
at  the  clock. 

The  senator  had  not  been  expected  to  live,  in 
fact  it  was  remarkable  that  he  should  have  lived 
so  long.  But  when  a  man  has  been  preparing  for 
a  struggle  during  many  months,  he  is  apt  to  feel 
that  the  actual  moment  of  the  battle  is  indefinitely 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  135 

far  off.  But  now  the  senator  was  dead,  and  John 
meant  to  stand  in  his  place.  The  battle  was  be 
gun. 

No  one  who  has  not  seen  some  of  the  inside 
workings  of  political  life  can  have  any  idea  of 
what  a  man  feels  who  is  about  to  stand  as  a  candi 
date  in  an  election  for  the  first  time  in  his  life. 
For  months,  perhaps  for  years,  he  has  been  en 
gaged  with  political  matters ;  his  opinions  have 
been  formed  by  himself  or  by  others  into  a  very 
definite  shape  ;  it  may  be  that,  like  Harrington,  he 
has  frequently  spoken  to  large  audiences  with  more 
^r  less  success  ;  he  may  have  written  pamphlets  and 
volumes  upon  questions  of  the  day,  and  his  writ 
ings  may  have  roused  the  fiercest  criticism  and 
the  most  loyal  support.  All  this  he  may  have 
done,  and  done  it  well,  but  when  the  actual  mo 
ment  arrives  for  him  to  stand  upon  his  feet  and 
address  his  constituents,  no  longer  for  the  purpose 
of  making  them  believe  in  his  opinions,  but  in  order 
to  make  them  believe  in  himself,  he  is  more  than 
mortal  if  he  does  not  feel  something  very  unpleas 
antly  resembling  fear. 

It  is  one  thing  to  express  a  truth,  it  is  another  to 
set  one's  self  upon  a  pedestal  and  declare  that  one 
represents  it,  and  is  in  one's  own  person  the  living 
truth  itself.  John  was  too  honest  and  true  a  man 
not  to  feel  a  positive  reluctance  to  singing  his  own 
praises,  and  yet  that  is  what  most  electioneering 
consists  in. 

But  to  be  elected  a  senator  in  Massachusetts  is  a 


136  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

complicated  affair.  A  man  who  intends  to  succeed 
in  such  an  enterprise  must  not  let  the  grass  grow 
under  his  feet.  In  a  few  hours  the  whole  machinery 
of  election  must  be  at  work,  and  before  night  he 
would  have  to  receive  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men  and  electioneering  agents.  The  morning 
papers  did  not  contain  any  notice  of  the  senator's 
death,  as  they  had  already  gone  to  press  when  the 
news  reached  them,  if  indeed  it  was  as  yet  public 
property.  But  other  papers  appeared  at  mid-day, 
and  by  that  time  the  circumstances  would  undoubt 
edly  be  known.  John  struck  a  match  and  relit  his 
cigar.  The  moment  of  hesitation  was  over,  the  last 
breathing-space  before  the  fight,  and  all  his  activity 
returned.  Half  an  hour  later  he  went  out  with  a 
number  of  written  telegrams  in  his  hand,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  the  central  telegraph  office. 

The  case  was  urgent.  In  the  first  place  the  gov 
ernor  of  the  state  would,  according  to  law  and  cus 
tom,  immediately  appoint  a  senator  pro  tempore 
to  act  until  the  legislature  should  elect  the  new 
senator  in  place  of  the  one  deceased.  Secondly, 
the  legislature,  which  meets  once  a  year,  was  already 
in  session,  and  the  election  would  therefore  take 
place  immediately,  unless  some  unusual  delay  were 
created,  and  this  was  improbable. 

In  spite  of  the  article  which  had  so  outraged 
Josephine  Thorn's  sense  of  justice,  there  were  many 
who  believed  in  John  Harrington  as  the  prophet  of 
the  new  faith,  as  the  senator  of  reform  and  the 
orator  of  the  future,  and  his  friends  were  numerous 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  137 

and  powerful,  both  in  the  electing  body  and  among 
the  non-official  mass  of  prominent  persons  who 
make  up  the  aggregate  of  public  opinion.  It  had 
long  been  known  that  John  Harrington  would  be 
brought  forward  at  the  next  vacancy,  which,  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  things,  would  have  occurred  hi 
about  a  year's  time,  at  the  expiration  of  the  senior 
senator's  term  of  office,  but  which  had  now  been 
suddenly  caused  by  the  death  of  his  colleague. 
John  was  therefore  aware  that  his  success  must  de 
pend  almost  immediately  upon  the  present  existing 
opinion  of  him  that  prevailed,  and  as  he  made  his 
way  through  the  crowded  streets  to  the  telegraph 
office,  he  realized  that  no  effort  of  his  own  would 
be  likely  to  make  a  change  in  that  opinion  at  such 
short  notice.  At  first  it  had  seemed  to  him  as 
though  he  were  on  a  sudden  brought  face  to  face 
with  a  body  of  men  whom  he  must  persuade  to  elect 
him  as  their  representative,  and  in  spite  of  his 
great  familiarity  with  political  proceedings,  the 
idea  was  extremely  disagreeable  to  him.  But  on 
more  mature  reflection  it  was  clear  to  him  that  he 
was  in  the  hands  of  his  friends,  that  he  had  said 
his  say  and  had  done  all  he  would  now  be  able  to 
do  in  the  way  of  public  speaking  or  public  writing, 
and  that  his  only  possible  sphere  of  present  action 
lay  in  exerting  such  personal  influence  as  he  pos 
sessed. 

John  Harrington  was  ambitious,  or,  to  speak 
more  accurately,  he  was  wholly  ruled  by  a  domi 
nant  aspiration.  He  was  convinced  by  his  own 


138  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

study  and  observation,  as  well  as  by  a  considerable 
amount  of  personal  experience,  that  great  reforms 
were  becoming  necessary  in  the  government  of  the 
country,  and  he  was  equally  sure  that  a  man  was 
needed  who  should  be  willing  to  make  any  sacrilice 
for  the  sake  of  creating  a  party  to  inaugurate  such 
changes.  In  his  opinion  the  surest  step  towards  ob 
taining  influence  in  the  affairs  of  the  country  was 
a  seat  in  the  senate,  and  with  an  unhesitating  belief 
in  the  truth  and  honesty  of  the  principles  he  desired 
to  make  known,  he  devoted  every  energy  he  pos 
sessed  to  the  attainment  of  his  object. 

To  him  government  seemed  the  most  important 
function  of  society,  the  largest,  the  broadest,  and 
the  noblest ;  to  help,  if  possible,  to  be  a  leader  in 
the  establishment  of  what  was  good  for  the  country, 
and  to  be  the  very  foremost  in  destroying  that  which 
was  bad,  were  in  his  view  the  best  objects  and  aims 
for  a  strong  man  to  follow.  And  John  Harrington 
knew  himself  to  be  strong,  and  believed  himself  to 
be  right,  and  thus  armed  he  was  prepared  for  any 
struggle. 

The  quality  of  vanity  exists  in  all  men,  not 
least  in  those  whose  chief  profession  is  modesty; 
and  seeing  that  it  is  a  universal  element,  created 
and  inherent  in  every  one,  it  is  impossible  to  say 
it  is  bad  in  itself.  For  it  is  impossible  to  conceive 
any  human  creature  without  it.  A  recent  philos 
opher  of  reputation  has  taught  that  by  vanity,  by 
the  desire  to  appear  attractive  to  the  other  sex, 
man  has  changed  his  own  person  from  the  form  of 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  139 

a  beast  to  the  image  of  God.  Vanity  is  a  mighty 
power  and  incentive,  as  great  as  hunger  and  thirst, 
and  much  more  generally  active  in  the  affairs  of 
civilized  humanity.  And  yet  its  very  name  means 
hollowness.  "  The  hollowness  of  hollowness,  all 
things  are  hollowness,"  said  the  preacher,  and  his 
translators  have  put  the  word  vanity  in  his  mouth, 
because  it  means  the  same  thing.  But  in  itself, 
being  hollow,  it  is  neither  bad  nor  good ;  its  bad 
ness  or  goodness  lies  in  those  things  whereof  a  man 
makes  choice  to  fill  the  void,  the  inexpressible  and 
undefinable  craving  within  his  soul ;  as  also  hun 
ger  is  only  bad  when  it  is  satisfied  by  bad  things, 
or  not  satisfied  at  all,  so  that  in  the  one  case  it 
leads  to  disease,  and  in  the  other  to  the  committing 
of  crimes  in  the  desire  for  satisfaction.  Many  a 
poor  fellow  was  hung  by  the  neck  in  old  times  for 
stealing  a  loaf  to  stop  his  hunger,  and  many  a 
man  of  wit  goes  to  the  mad  -  house  nowadays  be 
cause  the  void  of  his  vanity  is  unfilled. 

But  vanity  is  called  by  yet  another  name  when, 
its  disagreeable  side  is  hidden,  and  when  its  empti 
ness  has  come  to  crave  for  great  things.  It  is  pride, 
then  honorable  pride,  then  ambition,  and  perhaps 
at  the  last  it  is  called  heroic  sacrifice.  Vanity  is 
an  unsatisfied  desire,  hollow  in  itself,  but  capable 
of  holding  both  bad  and  good.  It  is  not  identical 
with  self-complacency,  nor  yet  with  conceit. 

Probably  John  Harrington  had  originally  pos 
sessed  as  much  of  this  mysterious  quality  as  most 
men  who  are  conscious  of  strength  and  talent.  It  had 


140  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

never  manifested  itself  in  small  things,  and  its  very- 
extent  had  made  many  things  seem  small  which 
were  of  the  highest  importance  to  other  men.  He 
had  worked  as  a  boy  at  all  manner  of  studies  like 
other  boys,  but  the  idea  of  laboring  in  distasteful 
matters  for  the  sake  of  being  first  among  his  com 
panions  seemed  utterly  absurd  to  him.  From  the 
time  he  had  begun  to  think  for  himself  —  and  he  was 
young  when  he  reached  that  stage  —  he  had  formed 
a  rooted  determination  to  be  first  in  his  country, 
to  be  a  great  reformer  or  a  great  patriot,  and  he 
cared  to  study  nothing  that  was  not  connected  with 
this  idea.  When  his  name  was  first  heard  in  pub 
lic  life,  it  was  as  the  author  of  a  pamphlet  advo 
cating  certain  sweeping  measures  of  which  no  one 
else  had  ventured  to  dream  as  yet.  He  would 
have  smiled  now  had  he  taken  the  trouble  to  read 
again  some  of  those  earlier  productions  of  his.  It 
had  seemed  so  easy  to  move  the  world  then,  and  it 
seemed  so  hard  now.  But  nevertheless  he  meant 
to  move  it,  and  as  each  year  brought  him  increased 
strength  and  wider  experience,  it  brought  with  it 
also  the  conviction  of  ultimate  success.  He  had 
long  forgotten  to  hope  for  the  sudden  and  immedi 
ate  power  to  stir  the  world,  for  he  had  discovered 
that  it  was  a  labor  of  years,  the  work  of  a  lifetime ; 
but  if  he  had  ever  had  any  doubts  as  to  the  result 
of  that  work,  he  had  forgotten  them  also. 

And  now  his  strength,  his  aspirations,  his  van 
ity,  and  his  intellect  were  roused  together  to  the 
highest  activity  of  which  they  were  capable,  the 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  141 

hour  having  come  for  which  he  had  longed  through 
half  his  lifetime,  and  though  it  was  but  the  first 
trial,  in  which  he  might  fail,  it  had  for  him  all 
the  importance  of  the  supreme  crisis  of  his  exist 
ence. 

No  wonder  that  his  face  was  pale  and  his  lips 
set  as  he  walked  back  to  his  lodgings  from  the  tel 
egraph  office.  As  he  walked  down  the  hill  by  the 
railings  of  the  Common  he  came  upon  Josephine 
Thorn,  standing  at  the  entrance  of  one  of  the 
boarded  walks,  as  though  hesitating  whether  to  go 
in.  He  was  close  to  her  as  he  bowed,  and  some 
thing  in  her  face  made  him  stop. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Thorn,"  he  said.  She 
nodded  gravely  and  hesitated.  He  was  about  to 
go  on,  thinking  she  was  in  one  of  those  moods 
which  he  called  capricious.  But  she  stopped  him. 

"  Mr.  Harrington,  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  she 
said  quickly,  seeing  that  her  opportunity  was  on 
the  point  of  slipping  away. 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  John,  smiling  faintly. 

"  Mr.  Harrington  —  did  you  read  that  article 
about  you,  the  day  after  the  skating  party  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  John.  "  It  was  not  complimentary, 
if  I  remember." 

"  It  was  vile,"  said  Joe,  the  angry  color  rising 
to  her  temples  again.  "  It  was  abominable.  It 
was  written  by  Mr.  Vancouver." 

John  started  slightly. 

"  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,"  he  said. 

"  No,  I  am  not  mistaken.     There  were  things  in 


142  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

it,  word  for  word  as  he  said  them  to  me  just  after 
the  speech.  I  am  perfectly  sure." 

John  looked  very  gravely  at  Joe,  as  though  to 
be  sure  of  her  honesty.  There  was  no  mistaking 
the  look  in  her  eyes. 

"  Miss  Thorn,"  John  said,  "  Vancouver  may 
have  said  those  very  things  to  some  one  else,  who 
wrote  them  and  printed  them.  But  in  any  case,  I 
am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you  for  the  informa 
tion  "  — 

"You  are  not  angry?"  Joe  began,  already  re 
penting. 

"  No  —  how  could  I  be  ?  It  may  be  important. 
The  junior  senator  for  Massachusetts  died  this 
morning,  and  there  may  be  an  election  at  any  mo^ 
ment.  I  have  not  told  any  one  else,  but  it  will  be 
known  everywhere  in  an  hour's  time.  Good-by, 
and  many  thanks." 

"  You  will  be  senator,  of  course  ?  "  said  Joe,  in 
great  excitement. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  John  answered.  "  Are  you 
going  down  the  hill  ?  " 

"  No  —  thanks  —  I  am  going  home,"  said  Joe, 
"  Good-by." 


CHAPTER  X. 

JOE  had  been  mistaken  in  thinking  that  Ronald 
would  be  less  well  received  than  herself.  There 
was  of  course  the  usual  amount  of  gossip  concern 
ing  him,  but  as  he  refrained  from  eccentricities  of 
dress  when  asked  to  dinner,  and  did  not  bet  that 
he  would  ride  his  horse  into  the  smoking-room  of 
the  Somerset  Club,  the  gossip  soon  lost  ground 
against  the  list  of  his  good  qualities.  Moreover, 
he  was  extremely  good-looking,  and  his  manner 
was  modesty  itself.  He  admired  everything  he 
saw,  partly  because  it  was  new  to  him,  and  partly 
because  there  was  a  good  deal  to  admire. 

For  a  day  or  two  after  the  final  scene  with  Joe 
he  had  avoided  seeing  her.  He  had  not  been  able 
to  resist  the  temptation  to  go  back  on  the  same 
day,  and  he  had  spent  some  hours  in  considering 
that  human  affairs  are  extremely  mutable.  But 
the  scenes  about  him  were  too  new,  and  very  many 
of  the  faces  he  saw  were  too  attractive,  to  allow  of 
his  brooding  for  long  over  his  misfortune.  His 
first  impulse  had  been  to  go  away  again  on  the 
very  evening  of  his  arrival.  He  had  gone  to  see 
Joe,  arriving  during  luncheon,  in  the  expectation 
of  seeing  her  alone  again.  There  would  be  a 
scene  of  solemn  farewell,  in  which  he  would  bid 


144  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

her  be  happy  in  her  own  way,  in  a  tone  of  semi- 
paternal  benevolence,  after  which  he  would  give 
her  his  blessing,  and  bid  farewell  to  the  pomps  and 
vanities  of  society.  He  would  naturally  retire 
gloomily  from  the  gay  world,  and  end  his  miser 
able  existence  in  the  approved  Guy  Livingstone 
fashion  of  life,  between  cavendish  tobacco,  deep 
drinking,  and  high  play.  Joe  would  then  repent 
of  the  ruin  she  had  caused,  and  that  would  be  a 
great  satisfaction.  There  was  once  a  little  boy  in 
Boston  whose  hands  were  very  cold  as  he  went  to 
school.  But  he  blew  on  them  savagely,  saying, 
"  I  am  glad  of  it !  It  serves  my  father  right  for 
not  buying  me  my  gloves."  That  was  Ronald's 
state  of  mind.  He  had  led  the  most  sober  of  lives, 
and  the  wildest  dissipation  he  remembered  was 
the  Lord  Mayor's  supper  to  the  Oxford  and  Cam 
bridge  crews,  when  he  himself  had  been  one  of 
the  winners.  But  surely,  for  a  disappointed  lover 
there  could  be  no  course  so  proper  as  a  speedy 
death  by  dissipation  —  which  would  serve  Joe 
right.  Therefore,  on  his  return  to  his  hotel,  he 
ordered  whiskey,  in  a  sepulchral  tone  of  voice.  He 
tasted  it,  and  thought  it  detestable. 

On  reflection,  he  would  put  off  the  commence 
ment  of  his  wild  career  until  the  evening  after  he 
had  seen  Joe  again.  The  ravages  of  drink  would 
not  be  perceptible  so  soon,  after  all.  He  changed 
his  tie  for  one  of  a  darker  hue,  ate  sparingly  of 
a  beefsteak,  and  went  back  to  bid  Joe  a  last  fare 
well. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  145 

Sybil  Brandon  and  Miss  Schenectady  were  ele 
ments  in  the  solemn  leave-taking  which  Ronald 
had  not  anticipated.  Sybil,  moreover,  made  a 
great  effort,  for  she  was  anxious  to  help  Joe  as 
much  as  possible  in  her  difficulties.  She  talked  to 
Ronald  with  a  vivacity  that  was  unusual,  and  Joe 
herself  was  astonished  at  the  brilliance  of  her  con 
versation.  She  had  always  thought  Sybil  very  re 
served,  if  not  somewhat  shy. 

Perhaps  Sybil  pitied  Ronald  a  little.  He  was 
very  quiet  in  his  manner,  though  after  the  first  few 
minutes  he  found  himself  talking  much  as  usual. 
<fTrue,  he  often  looked  at  Joe,  and  then  was  silent ; 
but  then  again  he  looked  at  Sybil,  and  his  tongue 
was  unloosed.  He  was  grateful  after  a  time,  and 
he  was  also  flattered.  Besides,  he  could  not  help 
noticing  that  his  new  acquaintance  was  extremely 
beautiful.  His  conscience  smote  him  as  he  realized 
that  he  was  thinking  of  her  appearance,  and  he 
immediately  quieted  the  qualm  by  saying  that  it 
was  but  natural  admiration  for  an  artistic  object. 
Ronald  did  not  know  much  about  artists  and  that 
sort  of  people,  but  the  expression  formed  itself 
conveniently  in  his  mind. 

The  consequence  was  that  he  accepted  an  invi 
tation  to  drive  with  the  two  girls  after  luncheon, 
and  when  they  left  him  at  his  hotel,  a  proceed 
ing  against  which  he  vehemently  protested  on  the 
score  of  propriety,  he  reluctantly  acknowledged  to 
himself  that  he  had  enjoyed  the  afternoon  very 

much. 

10 


146  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Come  and  see  us  after  five  o'clock,"  said  SybiL 
"  I  will  present  you  to  Mrs.  Wyndham.  Nine  hun 
dred  and  thirty-six,  Beacon  Street,"  she  added, 
laughing. 

"  With  great  pleasure  —  thanks,"  said  Ronald. 

"  Good-by,  Ronald  dear,"  said  Joe  pleasantly. 

"  Good-by,"  he  answered  in  a  doubtful  tone  of 
voice,  as  he  raised  his  hat ;  and  the  two  girls  drove 
away. 

Sybil  was  apparently  in  very  good  spirits. 

"  Do  not  be  frightened,  Joe  dearest,"  she  said. 
"  We  will  manage  it  very  welL  He  is  not  hurt  in 
the  least." 

"  Really,  I  do  not  believe  he  is  —  so  very  much, 
you  know,"  Joe  ans\vered.  But  she  was  thought 
ful,  and  did  not  speak  again  for  some  time. 

It  was  on  the  morning  after  this  that  Joe  read 
the  article  on  John's  speech,  and  met  him  by  the 
Common.  Ronald  did  not  call  during  the  day, 
and  in  the  evening  Joe  went  to  her  party  as  she 
had  intended ;  but  neither  Sybil  nor  John  Har 
rington  were  there.  Sybil  did  not  go  to  parties, 
and  John  probably  had  too  much  to  do.  But  at 
supper  Joe  chanced  to  be  standing  near  Mrs.  Sain 
Wyndham. 

"  Oh,  I  so  much  wanted  to  see  you,  Miss  Thorn," 
said  the  latter.  "  I  wanted  to  tell  you  how  much 
we  like  your  cousin,  Mr.  Surbiton.  He  came  to 
day,  and  I  have  asked  him  to  dinner  to-morrow." 

"Yes?"  said  Joe,  turning  a  shade  paler.  "1 
am  so  glad  you  like  him.  He  is  a  very  nice  boy.n 


AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  147 

"  He  is  perfectly  lovely,"  said  Mrs.  Sam,  en 
thusiastically.  "  And  he  is  so  natural,  you  would 
not  know  he  was  English  at  all." 

"  Really  ? "  said  Joe,  raising  her  eyebrows  a 
little,  but  laughing  at  the  same  time. 

"Oh  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  "I  always 
forget  you  are  not  one  of  us.  Besides,  you  are, 
you  see." 

Mrs.  Wyndham  rarely  said  a  tactless  thing,  but 
this  evening  she  was  in  such  good  spirits  that  she 
said  what  came  uppermost  in  her  thoughts.  Joe 
was  not  offended  ;  she  was  only  bored. 
*  "Will  you  not  come  and  dine  too,  to-morrow 
night?"  asked  Mrs.  Wyndham,  who  was  anxious 
to  atone. 

"Thanks,  awfully,"  said  Joe,  "but  I  have  to 
dine  with  the  Aitchisons." 

Pocock  Vancouver,  pale  and  exquisite  as  ever, 
came  up  to  the  two  ladies. 

"  Can  I  get  you  anything,  Mrs.  Wyndham  ?  " 
he  inquired,  after  a  double  bow. 

"  No,  thank  you.  Johnny  Hannibal  is  taking 
care  of  me,"  answered  Mrs.  Sam,  coldly. 

"  Miss  Thorn,  what  can  I  get  you  ?  "  he  asked, 
turning  to  Joe. 

"  Nothing,  thanks,"  said  Joe,  "  Mr.  Biggielow  is 
getting  me  something."  She  did  not  look  at  Van 
couver  as  she  answered,  and  the  angry  color  began 
to  rise  to  her  temples.  Vancouver,  who  was  not 
used  to  repulses  such  as  these,  and  was  too  old 
a  soldier  to  give  up  a  situation  so  easily,  stood  a 


148  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

moment  playing  with  his  coat  tails.  A  sudden 
thought  passed  through  Joe 's  mind.  It  struck  her 
that,  considering  the  situation  of  affairs,  it  would 
be  unwise  to  break  off  her  acquaintance  with  Van 
couver  at  the  present  time.  Her  first  honest  im 
pulse  was  to  cut  him  and  never  speak  to  him  again. 
But  it  was  better  to  act  with  more  deliberation. 
In  the  first  place,  there  might  be  more  to  be  learnt 
which  might  be  of  service  to  John ;  secondly,  peo 
ple  would  talk  about  it  if  she  cut  him,  and  would 
invent  some  story  to  the  effect  that  he  had  pro 
posed  to  marry  her,  or  that  she  had  proposed  to 
marry  him.  It  was  contrary  to  her  nature  to  pre 
tend  anything  she  did  not  feel,  but  it  would  nev 
ertheless  be  a  mistake  to  quarrel  openly  with  Van 
couver. 

"On  second  thoughts — if  you  would  get  me  a 
glass  of  water" — she  said,  speaking  to  him.  He 
instantly  disappeared ;  but  even  in  the  moment  be 
fore  he  departed  to  execute  her  command  he  had 
time  to  express  by  his  look  a  sense  of  injury  for 
given,  which  did  not  escape  Joe. 

1 '  What  a  hypocrite  the  man  is ! "  she  thought. 

Vancouver  on  his  part  could  form  no  conception 
of  the  cause  of  the  coldness  the  two  ladies  had 
shown  him.  He  could  not  know  that  Joe  had  dis 
covered  in  him  the  writer  of  the  article,  still  less 
could  he  have  guessed  that  Joe  had  told  John,  and 
that  John  had  told  Mrs.  Sam.  He  could  only  sup 
pose  that  the  two  had  been  talking  of  something, 
and  were  annoyed  at  being  interrupted. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  149 

When  he  came  back  with  the  glass  of  water  Mr. 
Biggielow  had  just  brought  Joe  some  salad.  The 
usual  struggle  began  between  the  two  men.  Mr. 
Bonamy  Biggielow  was  a  little  poet. 

"  I  ought  to  thank  you,  Miss  Thorn,  instead  of 
you  thanking  me,"  said  Vancouver,  in  a  seductive 
voice,  on  one  side  of  Joe. 

"  Is  it  not  the  most  crowded  supper  you  ever 
saw  ?  "  remarked  Mr.  Biggielow  on  the  other  side. 

"Why?"  said  Joe,  eating  her  salad  and  looking 
straight  before  her. 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  send  me  away.  I 
»was  so  glad  when  you  condescended  to  make  use 
of  me,"  answered  Vancouver. 

Mr.  Biggielow  also  answered  Joe's  interroga 
tion. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  mean  it  is  thronged  with 
people.  There  is  a  decided  '  sound  of  revelry  by 
night.' " 

"Youth  and  beauty?  That  sort  of  thing?" 
said  Joe  to  Biggielow.  Then  turning  to  Van 
couver,  she  added,  "  Why  should  I  send  you 
away  ?  " 

"  I  hope  there  is  no  reason,"  he  said  gravely. 
"In  fact,  I  am  sure  there  is  none,  except  that  you 
would  of  course  always  do  exactly  as  you  pleased 
about  that  and  everything  else." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  Joe  answered,  and  her  lip  cuned 
a  little  proudly,  "  you  are  quite  right  about  that . 
But  then,  you  know,  I  did  not  send  you  away." 

"  Thanks,  again,"  said  Vancouver. 


150  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

*  Do  let  me  get  you  something  more,  Miss 
Thorn,"  suggested  Mr.  Biggielow.  "  No  ?  There 
is  any  amount  of  pdtes.  You  always  like  "  — 

"  Of  course  you  have  heard  about  Harrington  ?  " 
said  Vancouver  in  a  low  voice  close  to  Josephine's 
ear. 

"  No,  really,"  she  answered.  "  Will  you  take 
my  plate  ?  And  the  glass  —  thanks/'  Mr.  Bon- 
amy  Biggielow  was  obliged  to  retire.  "  You  mean 
about  the  senatorship?  "  asked  Joe. 

"Yes.  The  senator  died  this  morning.  Har 
rington  will  make  a  fight  for  it.  He  has  many 
friends." 

"  Among  whom  you  count  yourself,  doubtless," 
remarked  Joe. 

"Not  politically,  of  course.  I  take  no  active 
part "  — 

"Yes,  I  know."  Joe  knew  the  remainder  of 
the  sentence  by  heart.  "  Then  you  will  have  a 
glorious  opportunity  for  maintaining  an  armed 
neutrality." 

"  Oh,  if  it  comes  to  that,"  said  Vancouver 
mildly,  "I  would  rather  see  Harrington  senator 
than  some  of  our  own  men.  At  all  events,  he  is 
honest." 

"  At  all  events !  "  Joe  repeated.  "  You  think, 
perhaps,  that  some  man  of  your  own  party  may  be 
elected  who  will  not  turn  out  to  be  honest  ?  " 

"  Well,  the  thing  is  possible.  You  see,  politics 
are  such  a  dirty  business  —  all  kinds  of  men  get 
in." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  15l 

Joe  laughed  in  a  way  that  made  Vancouver 
nervous.  He  was  beginning  to  know  her,  and  he 
could  tell  when  some  sharp  thrust  was  coming  by 
the  way  she  laughed.  Nevertheless,  he  was  fasci 
nated  by  her. 

"  It  is  not  long  since  you  told  me  that  Mr.  Har 
rington's  very  mild  remark  about  extinguishing 
bribery  and  corruption  was  a  piece  of  gross  exag 
geration,"  said  Joe.  "  Why  do  you  say  politics 
are  dirty  work?" 

"There  is  a  great  difference,"  answered  Van 
couver. 

"  What  difference  ?     Between  what  ?  " 

"  Between  saying  that  the  business  of  politics  ia 
not  clean,  and  saying  that  all  public  officers  are 
liars,  like  the  Cretans." 

"  Who  is  exaggerating  now  ?  "  asked  Joe  scorn- 
fully. 

"  Of  course  it  is  I,"  answered  Vancouver,  sub 
missively.  "  If  it  is  not  a  rude  question,  did  not 
that  dress  come  from  Egypt  ?  " 

"  Yes."  The  garment  in  question  was  made  of 
a  kind  of  soft  white,  fluted  material  over  a  rose- 
colored  silk  ground.  The  raised  flutings  followed 
the  exquisite  lines  of  Joe's  figure,  and  had  the 
double  merit  of  accentuating  its  symmetry,  and  of 
so  leading  the  eye  as  to  make  her  height  seem 
greater  than  it  really  was.  Cut  square  at  the 
neck,  it  showed  her  dazzling  throat  at  its  best  ad 
vantage,  and  a  knot  of  pink  lilies  at  the  waist  har 
monized  delicately  with  the  color  of  the  whole. 


152  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  It  is  just  like  you,"  said  Vancouver,  "  to  have 
something  different  from  everybody  else.  I  ad 
mire  Eastern  things  so  much,  and  one  gets  so  tired 
of  the  everlasting  round  of  French  dresses." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  said  Joe,  indifferently. 

"I  am  so  anxious  to  meet  your  cousin,  Miss 
Thorn,"  said  Vancouver,  trying  a  new  subject. 
"  I  hear  there  is  to  be  a  dinner  for  him  to-morrow 
night  at  Mrs.  Sam  Wyndham's.  But  of  course  I 
am  not  asked." 

"  Why  '  of  course  '  ?  "  inquired  Joe  quickly. 

"  I  believe  Mrs.  Wyndham  thinks  I  dislike 
Englishmen,"  said  Vancouver  at  random.  "But 
she  is  really  very  much  mistaken." 

"Really?" 

"Yes  —  I  should  be  willing  to  like  any  number 
of  Englishmen  for  the  sake  of  being  liked  by  one 
Englishwoman."  He  looked  at  Joe  expressively 
as  he  spoke. 

"Really?" 

"  Indeed,  yes.     Do  you  not  believe  me?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Joe.  "  Why  should  I  not  be 
lieve  you  ?  "  Her  voice  was  calm,  but  that  same 
angry  flush  that  had  of  late  so  often  shown  itself 
began  to  rise  slowly  at  her  temples.  Vancouver 
saw  it,  and  thought  she  was  blushing  at  what  he 
said. 

"  I  trust  you  will,"  said  Vancouver.  "  I  trust 
that  some  day  you  will  let  me  tell  you  who  that 
Englishwoman  is." 

It  was  horrible ;   he  was  making   love  to  her, 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN  153 

this  wretch  whom  she  despised.  She  turned  her 
head  away  to  hide  the  angry  look  in  her  eyes. 

"  Thanks  —  no,  if  you  do  not  mind,"  said  she. 
'•'  I  do  not  care  to  receive  confidences,  —  I  always 
forget  to  forget  them."  It  was  not  in  order  that 
Pocock  Vancouver  might  make  love  to  her  that 
she  had  sent  away  Bonamy  Biggielow,  the  harm 
less  little  poet.  She  wished  him  back  again,  but 
he  was  embarked  in  an  entorprise  to  dispute  with 
Johnny  Hannibal  a  place  near  Miss  St.  Joseph. 
Mrs.  Wyndham  had  long  since  disappeared. 

"Will  you  please  take  me  back  to  my  aunt  ?  H 
said  Joe.  As  they  passed  from  the  supper-room 
they  suddenly  came  upon  John  Harrington,  who 
was  wandering  about  in  an  unattached  fashion, 
apparently  looking  for  some  one.  He  bowed  and 
stared  a  little  at  seeing  Joe  on  Vancouver's  arm, 
but  she  gave  him  a  look  of  such  earnest  entreaty 
that  he  turned  and  followed  her  at  a  distance  to 
see  what  would  happen.  Seeing  her  sit  down  by 
her  aunt,  he  came  up  and  spoke  to  her,  almost 
thrusting  Vancouver  aside  with  his  broad  shoul 
ders.  Vancouver,  however,  did  not  dispute  the 
position,  but  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  away. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Joe,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief.  "  I  thought  I  should  never  get  away  from 
him !  " 

It  is  amazing  what  a  difference  the  common 
knowledge  of  a  secret  will  make  in  the  intimacy  of 
two  people. 

"  I  was  rather  taken  aback  at  seeing  you  with 


154  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

him,"  said  John.  "  Not  that  it  can  make  any  dif 
ference  to  you,"  he  added  quickly,  "  only  you 
seemed  so  angry  at  him  this  morning." 

"  But  it  does  "  —  Joe  began,  impulsively.  "  That 
is,  I  began  by  meaning  to  cut  him,  and  then  I 
thought  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  make  a  scandal." 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  "  it  would  be  a  great  mis 
take.  Besides,  I  would  not  for  all  the  world  have 
you  take  a  part  in  this  thing.  It  would  do  no 
good,  and  it  might  do  harm." 

"I  think  I  have  taken  a  part  already,"  said  Joe, 
somewhat  hurt. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  I  am  very  grateful,  but  I  hope 
you  will  not  think  any  more  about  it,  nor  allow  it 
to  influence  you  in  any  way." 

"  But  what  is  the  use  of  friends  if  they  do  not 
take  a  part  in  one's  quarrels  ?  "  asked  Joe. 

John  looked  at  her  earnestly  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  saw  that  she  was  perfectly  sincere.  He  had 
grown  to  like  Josephine  of  late,  and  he  was  grate 
ful  to  her  for  her  friendship.  Her  manner  that 
morning,  when  she  told  him  of  her  discovery,  had 
made  a  deep  impression  on  him. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Thorn,"  he  said  earnestly,  in  a 
low  voice,  "  you  are  too  good  and  kind,  and  I  thank 
you  very  heartily  for  your  friendship.  But  I  think 
you  were  very  wise  not  to  cut  Vancouver,  and  I 
hope  you  will  not  quarrel  with  anybody  for  any 
matter  so  trivial."  The  color  came  to  Joe's  face, 
but  not  for  anger  this  time. 

"  Trivial  1  "  she  exclaimed. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  15o 

"Yes,  trivial,"  John  repeated.  "Remember  that 
it  is  the  policy  of  that  paper  to  abuse  me,  and  that 
if  Vancouver  had  not  written  the  article,  the  edi 
tor  could  have  found  some  one  else  easily  enough 
who  would  have  done  it." 

"  But  it  is  such  a  dastardly  thing ! "  said  Joe. 
"  He  always  says  to  every  one  that  he  has  the  great 
est  respect  for  you,  and  then  he  does  a  thing  like 
this.  If  I  were  you  I  would  kill  him  —  I  am  sure 
I  would." 

"  That  would  not  be  the  way  to  win  an  election 
nowadays,"  said  John,  laughing. 
*  "  Oh,  I  would    not  care  about  that,"  said  Joe, 
hotly.     "But  I  dare  say  it  is  very  silly  of  me," 
she  added.     "  You  do  not  seem  to  mind  it  at  all." 

"  It  is  not  worth  while  to  lose  one's  temper  or 
one's  soul  for  the  iniquities  of  Mr.  Pocock  Van 
couver,"  said  John.  "  The  man  may  do  me  harm, 
but  as  I  never  expected  his  friendship  or  help,  he 
neither  falls  nor  rises  in  my  estimation  on  that 
account.  Blessed  are  they  who  expect  nothing  !  " 

"  Blessed  indeed,"  said  Joe.  "  But  one  cannot 
help  expecting  men  who  have  the  reputation  of 
being  gentlemen  to  behave  decently." 

"  Vancouver  has  a  right  to  his  political  opinions, 
and  a  perfect  right  to  express  them  in  any  way  he 
sees  fit,"  said  John. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Joe,  impatiently.  "  This 
is  a  free  country,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  But  if 
he  means  to  express  political  opinions  he  should 
not  ery  aloud  at  every  tea-party  in  town  that  he  is 


156  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

neutral  and  takes  no  active  part  in  politics.  I 
think  that  writing  violent  articles  in  a  newspaper 
is  a  very  active  part  indeed.  And  he  should  not 
go  about  saying  that  he  has  the  highest  reverence 
for  a  man,  and  then  call  him  a  lunatic  and  a  char 
latan  in  print,  unless  he  is  willing  to  sign  his  name 
to  it,  and  take  the  consequences.  Should  he  ?  I 
think  it  is  vile,  and  horrid,  and  abominable,  and 
nasty,  and  I  hate  him." 

"  With  the  exception  of  the  peroration  to  that 
speech,"  said  John,  who  was  very  much  amused, 
"  I  am  afraid  I  must  agree  with  you.  A  man  cer 
tainly  ought  not  to  do  any  of  those  things." 

"  Then  why  do  you  defend  him  ?  "  asked  Joe, 
with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Because,  on  general  principles,  I  do  not  think 
a  man  is  so  much  worse  than  his  fellows  because 
he  does  things  they  would  very  likely  do  in  his 
place.  There  are  things  done  every  day,  all  over 
the  world,  quite  as  bad  as  that,  and  no  one  takes 
much  notice  of  them.  Almost  every  business  man 
is  trying  to  get  the  better  of  some  other  business 
man  by  fair  means  or  foul." 

*'  You  do  not  seem  to  have  a  very  exalted  idea 
of  humanity,"  said  Joe. 

"  A  large  part  of  humanity  is  sick,"  said  John, 
"  and  it  is  as  well  to  be  prepared  for  the  worst  in 
any  illness." 

"  I  wish  you  were  not  so  tremendously  calm, 
you  know,"  said  Joe,  looking  thoughtfully  into 
John's  face.  "  I  am  afraid  it  will  injure  you." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  157 

"  Why  in  the  world  should  it  injure  me  ?  "  asked 
John,  much  astonished  at  the  remark. 

"  I  have  a  presentiment  "  —  she  checked  herself 
suddenly.  "  I  do  not  like  to  tell  you,"  she  added. 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  what  you  think,  if  you 
will  tell  me,"  said  John,  gravely. 

"  Well,  do  not  be  angry.  I  have  a  presenti 
ment  that  you  will  not  be  made  senator.  Are  you 
angry?"  ' 

"  No  indeed.     But  why  ?  " 

"  Just  for  that  very  reason ;  you  are  too  calm. 
You  are  not  enough  of  a  partisan.  Every  one  is 
a,  partisan  here." 

John  was  silent,  and  his  face  was  grave  and 
thoughtful.  The  remark  was  profound  in  its  way, 
and  showed  a  far  deeper  insight  into  political 
matters  than  he  imagined  Joe  possessed.  He  had 
long  regarded  Mrs.  Wyndham  as  a  woman  of  fine 
sense  and  judgment,  and  had  often  asked  her  opin 
ion  on  important  questions.  But  in  all  his  experi 
ence  she  had  never  said  anything  that  seemed  to 
strike  so  deeply  at  the  root  of  things  as  this  simple 
remark  of  Josephine's. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  angry,"  said  Joe,  seeing 
that  he  was  grave  and  silent. 

"  You  have  set  me  thinking,  Miss  Thorn,"  he 
answered. 

"  You  think  I  may  be  right  ?  "  she  said. 

"  The  idea  is  quite  new  to  me.  I  think  it  is 
perhaps  the  best  definition  of  the  fact  that  I  ever 
heard.  But  it  is  not  what  ought  to  be." 


158  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"Of  course  not,"  Joe  answered.  "Nothing  is 
just  what  it  ought  to  be.  But  one  has  to  take 
things  as  they  are." 

"  And  make  them  what  they  should  be,"  added 
John,  and  the  look  of  strong  determination  came 
into  his  face. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  Joe,  softly.  "  Make  things 
what  they  should  be.  That  is  the  best  thing  a 
man  can  live  for." 

"  Perhaps  we  might  go  home,  Joe,"  said  Miss 
Schenectady,  who  had  been  conversing  for  a  couple 
of  hours  with  another  old  lady  of  literary  tastes. 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Zoe,"  said  Joe,  rousing  herself,  "  I 
think  we  might." 

"  Shall  I  see  you  to-morrow  night  at  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham's  dinner  ?  "  asked  John,  as  they  parted. 

"  No,  I  refused.      Good-night." 

As  Joe  sat  by  her  aunt's  side  in  the  deep  dark 
carriage  on  the  way  home,  her  hands  were  cold 
and  she  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  And  when 
at  last  she  laid  her  head  upon  her  pillow  there 
were  tears  in  her  eyes  and  on  her  cheeks. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  I  can  be  so  heartless  ?  "  she 
murmured  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

RONALD  went  to  see  Sybil  Brandon  at  five 
o'clock,  and  as  it  chanced  he  found  her  alone. 
Mrs.  Wyndham,  she  said,  had  gone  out,  or  rather 
she  had  not  yet  come  home ;  but  if  Ronald  would 
wait,  she  would  certainly  be  in. 

Ronald  waited,  and  talked  to  Miss  Brandon  in 
the  mean  while.  He  had  a  bereaved  air  when  he 
arrived,  which  was  calculated  to  excite  sympathy, 
and  his  conversation  was  subdued  in  tone,  and 
grave  in  subject.  But  Sybil  did  her  best  to  cheer 
him,  and  in  the  fullness  of  her  sympathy  did  per 
haps  more  than  was  absolutely  necessary.  Ron 
ald's  wound  was  not  deep,  but  he  had  a  firm  con 
viction  that  it  ought  to  be. 

Any  man  would  ^ave  f nought  the  same  in  his 
place.  Certainly,  few  peopL  would  have  under 
stood  what  they  felt  in  such  a  position.  He  had 
grown  up  believing  he  was  to  marry  a  young  and 
charming  woman  of  whom  he  was  really  exceed 
ingly  fond,  and  now  he  was  suddenly  told  that  the 
whole  thing  was  a  mistake.  It  was  enough  to 
break  a  man's  heart,  and  yet  Ronald's  heart  was 
not  broken,  and  to  his  great  surprise  beat  nearly 
as  regularly  the  day  after  his  disaster  as  it  had 
done  during  the  whole  two-and-twenty  years  of  his 


160  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

life.  He  could  not  understand  his  own  calmness, 
and  he  was  sure  that  he  ought  to  be  profoundly 
grieved  over  the  whole  affair,  so  that  his  face  was 
drawn  into  an  expression  of  solemnity  somewhat 
out  of  keeping  with  its  singular  youthful  freshness 
of  color  and  outline. 

The  idea  of  devoting'  himself  to  the  infernal 
gods  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  blighted  passion  had 
passed  away  in  the  course  of  the  drive  on  the  pre 
vious  afternoon.  He  had  felt  no  inclination  to 
drown  his  cares  in  drink  during  the  evening,  but 
on  the  contrary  he  had  gone  for  a  brisk  walk  in 
Beacon  Street,  and  had  ascertained  by  actual  ob 
servation,  and  the  assistance  of  a  box  of  matches, 
the  precise  position  of  No.  936.  This  had  occupied 
some  time,  as  it  is  a  peculiarity  of  Boston  to  put 
the  number  of  the  houses  on  the  back  instead  of 
the  front,  so  that  the  only  certain  course  to  follow 
in  searching  for  a  friend,  is  to  reach  the  rear  of 
his  house  by  a  circuitous  route  through  side  streets 
and  back  alleys,  and  then,  having  fixed  the  exact 
position  of  his  residence  by  astronomical  observa 
tion,  to  return  to  the  front  and  inquire  for  him. 
It  is  true  that  even  then  one  is  frequently  mistaken, 
but  there  is  nothing  else  to  be  done. 

It  was  perhaps  not  extraordinary  that  Ronald 
should  be  at  some  pains  to  find  out  where  Mrs. 
Wyndham  lived,  for  Sybil  was  the  only  person  be 
sides  Joe  and  Miss  Schenectady  whom  he  had  yet 
met,  and  he  wanted  company,  for  he  hated  and 
dreaded  solitude  with  his  whole  heart.  Having 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  161 

traveled  all  the  night  previous,  he  went  home  and 
slept  a  sounder  sleep  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  most 
jilted  lovers. 

The  next  day  he  rose  early  and  "did"  Boston. 
It  did  not  take  him  long,  and  he  said  to  himself 
that  half  of  it  was  very  jolly,  and  half  of  it  was  too 
utterly  beastly  for  anything.  The  Common,  and 
the  Gardens,  and  Commonwealth  Avenue,  you 
know,  were  rather  pretty,  and  must  have  cost  a 
deuce  of  a  lot  of  money  in  this  country  ;  but  as  for 
the  State  House,  and  Paul  Revere's  Church,  and 
the  Old  South,  and  the  city  generally,  why,  it  was 
simply  disgusting,  all  that,  you  know.  And  in  the 
afternoon  he  went  to  see  Sybil  Brandon,  and  began 
talking  about  what  he  had  seen. 

She  was,  if  anything,  more  beautiful  than  ever, 
and  as  she  looked  at  him,  and  held  out  her  hand 
with  a  friendly  greeting,  Ronald  felt  himself  actu 
ally  blushing,  and  Sybil  saw  it  and  blushed  too, 
a  very  little.  Then  they  sat  down  by  the  window 
where  there  were  plants,  and  they  looked  out  at 
the  snow  and  the  people  passing.  Sybil  asked 
Ronald  what  he  had  been  doing. 

"I  have  been  doing  Boston,"  he  said.  "Of 
course  it  was  the  proper  thing.  But  I  am  afraid 
I  do  not  know  much  about  it." 

"But  do  you  like  it?"  she  asked.  "It  is  much 
more  important,  I  think,  to  know  whether  you  like 
things  or  dislike  them,  than  to  know  everything 
about  them.  Do  not  you  think  so  ?" 

"Oh,  of  course,"  said  Ronald.  "But  I  like 
11 


162  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

Boston  very  much;  I  mean  the  part  where  you 
live.  All  this,  vou  know  —  Commonwealth  Place, 
and  the  Public  Park,  you  know,  and  Beacon  Ave 
nue,  of  course,  very  much.  But  the  city  " 

"You  do  not  like  the  city?"  suggested  Sybil, 
seeing  he  hesitated,  and  smiling  at  his  strange  con 
fusion  of  names. 

"No,"  said  Ronald.  "I  think  it  is  so  cramped 
and  ugly,  arid  all  little  narrow  streets.  But  then, 
of  course,  it  is  such  a  little  place.  You  get  into 
the  country  the  moment  you  walk  anywhere." 

"It  seems  very  big  to  the  Bostonians,"  said 
Sybil,  laughing. 

"Oh,  of  course.  You  have  lived  here  all  your 
life,  and  so  it  is  quite  different." 

"  I  ?  Dear  me  no  !  I  am  not  a  Bostonian  at 
all." 

"Oh,"  said  Ronald,  "I  thought  you  were.  That 
was  the  reason  I  was  not  sure  of  abusing  the  city 
to  you.  But  it  is  not  a  bad  place,  I  should  think, 
when  you  know  lots  of  people,  and  that  was  such 
a  pretty  drive  we  went  yesterday." 

"Yes,  it  must  seem  very  new  to  you.  Every 
thing  must,  I  should  think,  most  of  all  this  casual 
way  we  have  of  receiving  people.  But  there  really 
is  a  Mrs.  Wyndham,  with  whom  I  am  staying,  and 
she  will  be  in  before  long." 

"Oh  —  don't  —  don't  mention  her,"  said  Ron 
ald,  hastily,  "  I  mean  it  —  it  is  of  no  importance 
whatever,  you  know."  He  blushed  violently. 

Sybil  laughed,   and  Ronald  blushed  again,  but 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  168 

in  all  his  embarrassment  he  could  not  help  think 
ing  what  a  silvery  ring  there  was  in  her  voice. 

"  I  am  afraid  Mrs.  Wyndham  would  not  like  it, 
if  she  heard  you  telling  me  she  was  not  to  be  men 
tioned,  and  was  not  of  any  importance  whatever. 
But  she  is  a  very  charming  woman,  and  I  am  very 
fond  of  her." 

"  She  is  your  aunt,  I  presume,  Miss  Brandon  ?  " 
said  Eonald. 

"  My  aunt  ?  "  repeated  Sybil.  "  Oh  no,  not  at 
all  —  only  a  friend." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  all  unattached  young  ladies 
li^ved  with  aunts  here,  like  Miss  Schenectady." 
Ronald  smiled  grimly  at  the  recollections  of  the 
previous  day. 

"  Not  quite  that,"  said  Sybil,  laughing.  "  Mrs. 
Wyndham  is  not  the  least  like  Miss  Schenectady. 
She  is  less  clever  and  »nure  human." 

"  Really,  I  am  so  o-lad, "  said  Ronald.  "  And 
she  talks  so  oddly  —  Toe's  —  Miss  Thorn's  aunt. 
Could  you  tell  me,  if  it  is  not  a  rude  question,  why 
so  many  people  here  are  never  certain  of  anything  ? 
It  strikes  me  as  so  absurdly  ridiculous,  you  know. 
She  said  yesterday  that  'perhaps,  if  I  rang  the 
bell,  she  could  send  a  message.'  And  the  man  at 
the  hotel  this  morning  had  no  postage  stamps,  and 
said  that  perhaps  if  I  went  to  the  General  Post 
Office  I  might  be  able  to  get  some  there." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sybil,  "  it  is  absurd,  and  one  catches 
it  so  easily." 

"  But  would  it  not  be  ridiculous  if  the  guard 


164  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

called  out  at  a  station,  '  Perhaps  this  is  Boston !  * 
or  '  Perhaps  this  is  New  York !  '  ?  It  would  be 
too  utterly  funny." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  if  you  begin  to  make  a  list  of 
our  peculiarities  you  will  find  funnier  things  than 
that,"  said  Sybil,  laughing.  "  But  then  we  always 
laugh  at  you  in  England,  so  that  it  is  quite  fair." 

"  Oh,  we  are  very  absurd,  I  know,"  said  Ronald  ; 
"  but  I  think  we  are  much  more  comfortable.  For 
instance,  we  do  not  have  niggers  about  who  call  us 
'  Mister.' " 

"  You  must  not  use  such  words  in  Boston,  Mr. 
Surbiton,"  said  Sybil.  "  Seriously,  there  are  peo 
ple  who  would  be  very  much  offended.  You  must 
speak  of  'waiters  of  color,'  or  '  the  colored  help  ; ' 
you  must  be  very  careful." 

"I  will,"  said  Ronald.  "Thanks.  Is  every 
thing  rechristened  in  that  way?  I  am  afraid  I 
shall  always  be  in  hot  water." 

"  Oh  yes,  there  are  no  men  and  women  here. 
They  are  all  ladies  and  gentlemen,  or  '  the  gurls,' 
and  '  the  fellows.'  But  it  is  very  soon  learnt." 

"  Yes,  I  can  imagine,"  said  Ronald,  very  much 
amused.  "  But  —  by  the  bye,  this  is  the  season 
here,  is  not  it  ?  " 

So  they  chattered  together  for  nearly  an  hour 
about  the  merest  nothings,  not  saying  anything 
particularly  witty,  but  never  seeming  to  each  other 
in  the  least  dull.  Ronald  had  gone  to  Sybil  for 
consolation,  and  he  was  so  well  consoled  that  he 
was  annoyed  when  Mrs.  Wyndham  came  in  and  in- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  165 

terrupted  his  tete-d-tete.  Sybil  introduced  Ronald, 
and  when  he  rose  to  go,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
Mrs.  Wyndham  asked  him  to  dinner  on  the  fol 
lowing  day. 

That  night,  when  Ronald  was  alone  in  his  room 
at  the  hotel,  he  took  Josephine's  photograph  from 
a  case  in  his  bag  and  set  it  before  him  on  the  ta 
ble.  He  would  think  about  her  for  a  while,  and 
reflect  on  his  situation  ;  and  he  sat  down  for  that 
purpose,  his  chin  resting  on  his  folded  hands. 
Dear  Joe  —  he  loved  her  so  dearly,  and  she  was 
so  cruel  not  to  marry  him  !  But,  somehow,  as  he 
looked,  he  seemed  to  see  through  the  photograph, 
and  another  face  came  and  smiled  on  him.  Again 
and  again  he  called  his  attention  back,  and  tried 
to  realize  that  the  future  would  be  very  blank  and 
dreary  without  Joe  ;  but  do  what  he  would,  it  did 
not  seem  so  blank  and  dreary  after  all ;  there  was 
somebody  else  there. 

"  Joe  is  quite  right,"  he  said  aloud.  "  I  am  a 
brute."  And  he  went  to  bed,  trying  hard  to  be 
disgusted  with  himself.  But  his  dreams  were 
sweet,  for  he  dreamed  he  was  sitting  among  the 
ferns  at  Mrs.  Wyndham's  house,  talking  to  Sybil 
Brandon. 

"  Why,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  when 
Ronald  was  gone,  "  he  is  perfectly  charming.  We 
have  positively  found  a  new  man." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sybil.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  asked 
him  to  dinner.  I  do  not  think  he  is  very  clever, 
but  he  talks  easily,  and  says  funny  things." 


166  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  I  suppose  he  has  come  over  to  marry  his 
cousin  —  has  not  he  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Wyndham. 

"  No,"  replied  Sybil,  f'  he  is  not  going  to  marry 
Joe  Thorn,"  she  answered  absently  ;  for  she  was 
thinking  of  something,  and  her  tone  indicated  such 
absolute  certainty  in  the  matter  that  Mrs.  Wynd 
ham  looked  quickly  at  her. 

"  Well,  you  seem  quite  certain  about  it,  any 
way,"  she  said. 

"  I  ?  Oh  —  well,  yes.  I  think  it  is  extremely 
unlikely  that  he  will  marry  her." 

"  I  almost  wish  I  had  offered  to  take  him  to  the 
party  to-night,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  evidently 
unsatisfied.  "  However,  as  he  is  coming  to-mor 
row,  that  will  do  quite  as  well.  Sybil,  dear,  you 
look  tired.  Why  don't  you  go  and  lie  down  before 
dinner  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  —  I  am  not  tired,  really.  I  am 
always  pale,  you  know." 

"  Well,  I  am  tired  to  death  myself,  my  dear, 
and  as  there  is  no  one  here  I  will  say  I  am  not  at 
home,  and  rest  till  dinner." 

Mrs.  Wyndham  had  been  as  much  startled  as 
any  one  by  news  of  the  senator's  death  that  morn 
ing,  and  though  she  always  professed  to  agree  with 
her  husband  she  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of 
John  Harrington's  election.  She  had  been  a  good 
friend  to  him,  and  he  to  her,  for  years,  and  she 
cared  much  more  for  his  success  than  for  the  turn 
of  events.  She  had  met  him  in  the  street  that  af 
ternoon,  and  they  had  perambulated  the  pavement 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  167 

of  Beacon  Street  for  more  than  an  hour  in  the  dis 
cussion  of  the  future.  John  had  also  told  her  that 
he  was  now  certain  that  Vancouver  was  the  writer 
of  the  offensive  articles  that  had  so  long  puzzled 
him  ;  at  all  events  that  the  especial  one  which  had 
appeared  the  morning  after  the  skating-party  was 
undoubtedly  from  his  pen.  Mrs.  Wyndham,  who 
had  long  suspected  as  much,  was  very  angry  wheL 
she  found  that  her  suspicious  had  been  so  just,  and 
she  proposed  to  deal  summarily  with  Vancouver. 
John,  however,  begged  her  to  temporize,  and  she 
promised  to  be  prudent. 

4  "  By  the  way,"  she  said  to  Sybil,  as  she  was 
about  to  leave  the  room,  "  it  was  a  special  provi 
dence  that  you  did  not  marry  Vancouver.  He  has 
turned  out  badly." 

Sybil  started  slightly  and  looked  up.  Her  ex 
perience  with  Pocock  Vancouver  was  a  thing  she 
rarely  referred  to.  She  had  undoubtedly  given 
him  great  encouragement,  and  had  then  merci 
lessly  refused  him,  to  the  great  surprise  of  every 
one.  But  as  that  had  occurred  a  year  and  a  half 
ago,  it  was  quite  natural  that  she  should  treat  him 
like  any  one  else,  now,  just  as  though  nothing  had 
happened.  She  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Wyndham  in 
some  surprise. 

"  What  has  he  done  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  know  how  he  always  talks  about  John 
Harrington  ?  " 

"  He  always  says  he  respects  him  immensely." 

"  Very   well.     It   is   he  who  has  been  writing 


168  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

those  scurrilous  articles  that  we  have  talked  about 
so  much." 

"  How  disgraceful !  "  exclaimed  Sybil.  "  How 
perfectly  detestable  !  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  " 

"  There  is  not  the  least  doubt  about  it.  John 
Harrington  told  me  himself." 

"  Oh,  then  of  course  it  is  true,"  said  Sybil. 
"  How  dreadful !  " 

"  Harrington  takes  it  in  the  calmest  way,  as 
though  he  had  expected  it  all  his  life.  He  says 
they  were  never  friends,  and  that  Vancouver  has  a 
perfect  right  to  his  political  opinions.  I  never  saw 
anybody  so  cool  in  my  life." 

"  What  a  splendid  fellow  he  is !  "  exclaimed 
Sybil.  "  There  is  something  lion-like  about  him. 
He  would  forgive  an  enemy  a  thousand  times  a 
day,  and  say  the  man  who  injured  him  had  a  per 
fect  right  to  his  opinions." 

"  Why  gracious  goodness,  Sybil,  how  you  talk !  " 
cried  Mrs.  Wyndham ;  "  you  are  not  in  love  with 
the  man  yourself,  are  you,  my  dear  ?  " 

"I? "asked  Sybil.  Then  she  laughed.  "No, 
indeed !  I  would  not  marry  him  if  he  asked 
me." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Oh,  I  would  never  marry  a  celebrity  like  that. 
He  is  splendid,  and  noble,  and  honest  ;  but  every 
thing  in  him  is  devoted  to  his  career.  There  is  no 
room  for  a  woman  at  all." 

"  I  think  the  amount  of  solid  knowledge  about 
men  that  you  dear,  sweet,  lovely,  beautiful,  inno- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  169 

cent  little  girls  possess  is  something  just  too  per 
fectly  amazing !  "  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  slowly,  and 
with  great  emphasis. 

"  If  we  do,"  said  Sybil,  "  it  is  not  surprising.  I 
am  sure  I  do  not  wonder  at  girls  knowing  a  great 
deal  about  the  world.  Everything  is  discussed  be 
fore  them,  and  marriage  and  men  are  the  usual 
topics  of  conversation.  The  wonder  is  that  girls 
still  make  so  many  mistakes  in  their  choice,  after 
listening  to  the  combined  experience  of  all  the  mar 
ried  women  of  their  acquaintance  for  several  years. 
It  shows  that  no  one  is  infallible." 
*  "  What  a  funny  girl  you  are,  Sybil !  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Wyndham.  "  I  think  you  turn  the  tables 
on  me  altogether." 

"  Yes  ?  Well,  I  have  experiences  of  my  own 
now,"  said  Sybil,  leaning  back  against  an  enormous 
cushion. 

Mrs.  Wyndham  came  and  sat  upon  the  arm  of 
the  easy-chair,  and  put  one  arm  round  Sybil's  neck 
and  kissed  her. 

"  Sybil,  dear,"  she  said  affectionately,  and  then 
stopped. 

They  sat  in  silence  for  some  time,  looking  at  the 
great  logs  burning  in  the  deep  fire-place. 

"  Sybil,  dear,"  Mrs.  Wyndham  began  again, 
presently,  "why  did  you  refuse  Vancouver?  You 
do  not  mind  telling  me,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  ?  "  said  Sybil.  "  It  makes 
no  difference  now." 

"  No,  perhaps  not.      Only  I  always  thought  it 


170  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

strange.  He  must  have  done  something  you  did 
not  like,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  that  was  it.  He  did  something  I  did  not 
like.  Mr.  Harrington  would  have  said  he  had  a 
perfect  right  to  do  as  he  pleased.  But  I  could  not 
marry  him  after  that." 

"Was  it  anything  so  very  bad  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Wyndham,  affectionately,  smoothing  Sybil's  thick 
fair  hair. 

"  It  was  not  as  deep  as  a  well,  nor  as  broad  as 
a  house,"  said  Sybil,  with  a  faint,  scornful  laugh ; 
"  but  it  was  enough.  It  would  do." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me,  dear,"  persisted  Mrs. 
Wyndham.  "  I  have  a  particular  reason  for  want 
ing  to  know." 

"  Well,  I  would  not  have  told  before  this  other 
affair  came  out,"  said  Sybil.  "  I  would  not  marry 
him  because  he  tried  to  find  out  from  poor 
mamma's  man  of  business  whether  we  were  rich. 
And  the  day  after  he  got  the  information  that  I 
was  rich  enough  to  suit  him,  he  proposed.  But 
mamma  knew  all  about  what  had  gone  on  and  told 
me,  and  so  I  refused  him.  She  said  I  was  wrong, 
and  would  not  have  told  me  if  she  had  known  it 
would  make  any  difference.  And  now  you  say  I 
was  right.  I  am  sure  I  was ;  it  was  only  a  fancy 
I  had  for  him,  because  he  was  so  clever  and  well- 
bred.  Besides,  he  is  much  too  old." 

"  He  is  old  enough  to  be  your  father,  my  dear," 
sai «1  Mrs.  Wyndham  ;  "  but  I  think  you  were  a 
littitj  hard  on  him.  Almost  any  man  would  do  the 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  171 

same.  We  here  in  Boston,  of  course,  always  know 
about  each  other.  It  was  a  little  mean  of  him,  no 
doubt,  but  it  was  not  a  mortal  crime." 

"I  thiik  it  was  low,"  said  Sybil,  decisively. 
"  To  think  of  a  man  as  rich  as  that  caring  for  a 
paltry  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  a  year." 

"  I  know,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  "  it  is 
mean ;  but  they  all  do  it,  and  life  is  uncertain,  and 
so  is  business  I  suppose,  and  twenty  or  thirty  thou 
sand  a  year  does  make  a  difference  to  most  people, 
I  expect." 

Mrs.  Wyndham  looked  at  the  fire  reflectively, 
as  though  not  absolutely  certain  of  the  truth  of 
the  proposition.  Sam  Wyndham  was  commonly 
reputed  to  be  worth  a  dozen  millions  or  so.  He 
would  have  been  very  well  off  even  in  New  York, 
and  in  Boston  he  was  rich. 

"  It  would  make  a  great  difference  to  me,"  said 
Sybil,  laughing,  "  for  it  is  all  I  have  in  the  world. 
But  I  am  glad  I  refused  Vancouver  on  that  ground, 
all  the  same.  If  it  had  not  been  for  that  I  should 
have  married  him  —  just  imagine !  " 

"  Yes,  just  imagine !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wynd 
ham.  "  And  to  have  had  him  turn  out  such  an 
abominable  blackguard !  " 

"  There  is  no  mistaking  what  you  think  of  him 
now,  at  all  events,"  said  Sybil. 

"  No,  my  dear.  And  now  we  have  talked  so 
long  that  it  is  time  to  dress  for  dinner." 

How  Mrs.  Wyndham  went  to  the  party  apd  met 
Joe  Thorn  has  already  been  told.  It  was  no  wonder 


172  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN, 

that  Mrs.  Sam  treated  Vancouver  so  coldly,  and 
she  repulsed  him  again  more  than  once  during  the 
evening.  When  Joe  was  gone,  John  Harrington 
went  up  to  her. 

"  I  came  very  late,"  he  said,  "  and  at  first  I  could 
not  find  you,  and  then  I  had  to  say  something  to 
Miss  Thorn.  But  I  wanted  to  see  you  especially." 

"  Give  me  your  arm,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham,  "  and 
we  will  go  into  the  conservatory.  I  have  something 
especial  to  say  to  you,  too."  Once  out  of  the  thick  of 
the  party,  they  sat  down.  "  I  have  discovered 
something  more  about  our  amiable  friend,"  she  con 
tinued.  "  It  is  a  side-light  on  his  character  — 
something  he  did  a  year  and  a  half  ago.  Do  you 
remember  his  flirtation  with  Sybil  Brandon  at 
Saratoga  and  then  at  Newport  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  in  Newport  most  of  the  summer." 

"  You  don't  know  why  she  refused  him,  though. 
It 's  perfectly  rich  !  "  Mrs.  Sam  laughed  dryly. 

"  No ;  I  only  know  she  did,  and  every  one  seemed 
very  much  astonished,"  answered  John. 

"  She  refused  him  because  he  had  been  trying  to 
find  out  how  much  she  was  worth.  It  speaks  vol 
umes  for  the  characters  of  both  of  them,  does  it 
not?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  John.  "  What  a  Jew  that 
man  is !  He  is  as  rich  as  Croesus." 

"  Oh,  well,  as  I  told  her,  most  men  would  do  it." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  John  answered,  laughing  a  little. 
"  A  man  the  other  night  told  me  he  was  going  to 
make  inquiries  concerning  the  fortunes  of  his  be- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  173 

loved  one.  He  said  he  had  no  idea  of  buying  a  pig 
in  a  poke.  That  was  graceful,  was  it  not  ?  "  Mrs. 
Wyndhain  laughed  aloud. 

"  He  was  honest,  at  all  events.  By  the  bye,  do 
you  know  you  have  a  fanatic  admirer  in  Sybil  Bran 
don?" 

"  No,  really  ?  I  like  her  very  much,  too :  and  I 
am  very  glad  if  she  likes  me." 

"  She  said  she  would  not  marry  you  if  you  asked 
her,  though,"  said  Mrs.  Sam,  laughing  again. 
"  You  see  you  must  not  flatter  yourself  too  much." 

"  I  do  not.  I  should  not  think  of  asking  her  to 
marry  me.  Did  she  give  any  especial  reason  why 
she  would  inevitably  refuse  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  she  said  you  were  lion -like,  and, 
oh,  the  most  delightful  things  !  But  she  said  she 
would  not  marry  you  if  you  asked  her,  because  you 
are  a  celebrity  and  devoted  to  your  career,  so  that 
there  is  no  room  for  a  woman  in  your  life.  Is  that 
true  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  so  sure,"  said  John,  thoughtfully. 
"  Perhaps  she  is  right  in  the  way  she  means.  I 
never  thought  much  about  it." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  idea  Joe  had  formed  about  Vancouver  waa 
just,  in  the  main,  and  she  was  not  far  wrong  in 
disliking  him  and  thinking  him  dangerous.  Nev. 
ertheless  John  Harrington  understood  the  man 
better.  Vancouver  was  so  constituted  that  his  fine 
intellect  and  quick  perception  were  unsupported 
by  any  strong  principle  of  individuality.  He  was 
not  capable  of  hatred  — he  could  only  be  spiteful  ; 
he  could  not  love,  he  could  only  give  a  woman 
what  he  could  spare  of  himself.  He  would  at  all 
times  rather  avoid  an  open  encounter,  but  he  rarely 
neglected  an  opportunity  of  dealing  a  thrust  at  any 
one  he  disliked,  when  he  could  do  so  safely.  He 
was  the  very  opposite  of  John,  who  never  said  of 
any  one  what  he  would  not  say  to  themselves,  and 
granted  to  every  man  the  broadest  right  of  judg 
ment  and  freedom  of  opinion.  Nevertheless  there 
was  not  enough  real  strength  in  anything  Vancouver 
felt  to  make  him  very  dangerous  as  an  opponent, 
nor  valuable  as  a  friend.  Had  it  not  been  for  the 
important  position  he  had  attained  by  his  clever 
subtlety  in  affairs,  and  by  the  assistance  of  great 
railroad  magnates  who  found  in  him  a  character 
and  intelligence  precisely  suited  to  their  ends, 
Pocock  Vancouver  would  have  been  a  neutral  fig- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  175 

ure  in  the  world,  lacking  both  the  enterprise  to 
create  an  idea  and  the  courage  to  follow  it  out.  It 
was  most  characteristic  of  his  inherent  smallness, 
that  in  spite  of  his  wealth  and  the  very  large 
operations  that  must  be  constantly  occupying  his 
thoughts,  he  could  demean  himself  to  write  anony 
mous  articles  in  a  daily  paper,  in  the  hope  of  in 
juring  a  man  he  disliked. 

It  is  true  that  his  feeling  against  Harrington  was 
as  strong  as  anything  in  his  nature.  He  detested 
John's  strength  because  he  had  once  made  him  a 
confidence  and  John  had  done  him  a  favor.  He 
jjisliked  him  also  because  he  knew  that  wherever 
they  chanced  to  be  together  John  received  an 
amount  of  consideration  and  even  of  respect  which 
he  himself  could  not  obtain  with  all  his  money 
and  all  his  cleverness.  His  mind,  too,  delighted 
in  detail  and  revolted  against  John's  sweeping  gen 
eralities.  For  these  several  reasons  Vancouver 
had  taken  great  delight  in  writing  and  printing 
sundry  vicious  criticisms  upon  John  in  the  abso 
lute  certainty  of  not  being  found  out.  The  editor 
of  the  paper  did  not  know  Vancouver's  name,  for 
the  articles  came  through  the  post  with  a  modest 
request  that  they  might  be  inserted  if  they  were  of 
any  use ;  and  they  were  generally  so  pungent  and 
to  the  point  that  the  editor  was  glad  to  get  them, 
especially  as  no  remuneration  was  demanded. 

As  for  the  confidence  Vancouver  had  once  made 
to  John,  it  was  another  instance  of  his  littleness. 
At  the  time  when  Vancouver  was  anxious  to  marry 


176  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

Sybil  Brandon,  John  Harrington  was  very  intimate 
at  the  house,  and  was,  in  Vancouver's  opinion,  a 
dangerous  rival ;  at  all  events  he  felt  that  the  con 
test  was  not  an  agreeable  one,  nor  altogether  to 
his  own  advantage.  Accordingly  he  tried  every 
means  to  clear  the  coast,  as  he  expressed  it ;  but 
although  John  probably  had  no  intention  of  mar 
rying  Sybil,  and  Sybil  certainly  had  never  thought 
of  marrying  John,  the  latter  was  fond  of  her  so 
ciety,  and  of  her  mother's,  and  came  to  the  cottage 
on  the  Newport  cliff  with  a  regularity  that  drove 
Vancouver  to  the  verge  of  despair.  Pocock  at 
last  could  bear  it  no  longer  and  asked  John  to  din 
ner.  Over  a  bottle  of  Pommery  Sec  he  confided 
his  passion,  and  hinted  that  John  was  the  obstacle 
to  his  wooing.  Harrington  raised  his  eyebrows, 
smiled,  wished  Vancouver  all  success,  and  left 
Newport  the  next  day.  If  Vancouver  had  not 
disgusted  Sybil  by  his  inquiries  concerning  her 
fortune,  he  would  have  married  her,  and  his  feel 
ings  towards  John  would  have  been  different.  But 
to  know  that  Harrington  had  done  him  the  favor 
of  going  away,  knowing  that  he  was  about  to  offer 
himself  to  Miss  Brandon,  and  then  to  have  failed 
in  his  suit  was  more  than  the  vanity  of  Mr.  Pocock 
Vancouver  could  bear  with  any  sort  of  calmness, 
and  the  consequence  was  that  he  disliked  John  as 
much  as  he  disliked  anybody  or  anything  in  the 
world.  There  is  no  resentment  like  the  resent 
ment  of  wounded  vanity,  nor  any  self-reproach  like 
that  of  a  man  who  has  shown  his  weakness. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  177 

When  Mrs.  Wyndham  told  John  the  story  of 
Vancouver's  failure  he  could  have  told  her  the 
rest,  had  he  chosen,  and  she  would  certainly  have 
been  very  much  amused.  But  John  was  not  a 
man  to  betray  a  confidence,  even  that  of  a  man 
who  had  injured  him,  and  so  he  merely  laughed 
and  kept  his  own  counsel.  He  would  have  scorned 
to  speak  to  Vancouver  about  the  articles,  or  to 
make  any  change  in  his  manner  towards  him. 
As  he  had  said  to  Josephine,  he  had  expected 
nothing  from  the  man,  and  now  he  was  not  disap 
pointed. 

*  Meanwhile  Vancouver,  who  was  weakly  but  fre 
quently  susceptible  to  the  charms  of  woman,  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  if  Josephine  had  enough 
pin-money  she  would  make  him  an  admirable  wife, 
and  he  accordingly  began  to  make  love  to  her  in 
his  own  fashion,  as  has  been  seen.  A  day  or  two 
earlier  Joe  would  have  laughed  at  him,  and  it 
would  perhaps  have  amused  her  to  hear  what  he 
had  to  say,  as  it  amuses  most  young  women  to 
listen  to  pretty  speeches.  But  Joe  was  between 
two  fires,  so  to  speak  ;  she  was  under  the  two 
influences  that  were  strongest  with  her.  She  loved 
John  Harrington  with  all  her  heart,  and  she  hated 
Vancouver  with  all  her  strength.  It  is  true  that 
her  hatred  was  the  only  acknowledged  passion,  for 
her  maidenly  nature  was  not  able  yet  to  compre 
hend  her  love;  and  the  mere  thought  that  she 
cared  for  a  man  who  did  not  care  for  her  brought 

the  hot  blush  to  her  cheek.     But  the  love  was  in 

12 


178  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

her  heart  all  the  same,  strong  and  enduring,  so  that 
Vancouver  found  the  fortress  doubly  guarded, 

He  could  not  entirely  explain  to  himself  her 
conduct  at  the  party.  She  had  always  seemed 
rather  willing  to  accept  his  attentions  and  to  listen 
to  his  conversation,  but  on  this  particular  evening, 
just  when  he  wished  to  make  a  most  favorable 
impression,  she  had  treated  him  with  surprising 
coldness.  There  was  a  supreme  superiority  in  the 
way  she  had  at  first  declined  his  services,  and  had 
then  told  him  he  might  be  permitted  to  get  her  a 
glass  of  water.  The  subsequent  satisfaction  of  hav-. 
ing  ousted  Mr.  Bonamy  Biggielow,  the  little  poet, 
from  his  position  at  her  side  was  small  enough,  and 
was  more  than  counterbalanced  and  destroyed  by 
her  returning  to  her  chaperon  at  the  first  soft- 
tongued  insinuation  of  a  desire  to  flirt,  which 
Vancouver  ventured  to  speak.  Moreover,  when 
Harrington  almost  pushed  him  aside  and  sat  down 
by  Josephine,  Vancouver  could  bear  it  no  longer, 
but  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  away,  with  black 
thoughts  in  his  heart.  It  seemed  as  though  John 
was  to  be  always  in  his  way. 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  what  he  would  have  felt 
had  he  known  that  Josephine  Thorn,  John  Har 
rington,  and  Mrs.  Sam  Wyndham  all  knew  of  his 
journalistic  doings.  And  yet  it  was  nearly  certain 
that  no  one  of  the  three  would  ever  speak  to  him 
on  the  subject.  Joe  would  not,  because  she  knew 
John  would  not  like  it ;  John  himself  despised  the 
whole  business  too  much  to  condescend  to  reproach 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN,  179 

Vancouver ;  and,  finally,  Mrs.  Wyndham  was  too 
much  a  woman  of  the  world  to  be  willing  to  cause 
a  scandal  when  it  could  possibly  be  avoided.  She 
liked  Vancouver  too,  and  regretted  what  he  had 
done.  Her  liking  only  extended  to  his  conversa 
tion  and  agreeable  manners,  for  she  was  beginning 
to  despise  his  character ;  but  he  had  so  long  been 
an  habitue  about  the  house  that  she  could  not 
make  up  her  mind  to  turn  him  out.  But  for  all 
that,  she  could  not  help  being  cold  to  him  at  first. 

John  himself  was  too  busy  with  important  mat 
ters  to  bestow  much  thought  on  Vancouver  or  his 
goings.  His  day  had  been  spent  in  interviews  and 
letter- writing ;  fifty  people  had  been  to  see  him  at 
his  rooms,  and  he  had  despatched  more  than  that 
number  of  letters.  At  five  o'clock  he  had  slipped 
out  with  the  intention  of  dining  at  his  club  before 
any  one  else  was  there,  but  he  had  met  Mrs. 
Wyndham  in  the  street,  and  had  spent  his  dinner- 
hour  with  her.  At  half-past  six  he  had  another 
appointment  in  his  rooms,  and  it  was  not  till 
nearly  eleven  that  he  was  able  to  get  away  and 
look  in  upon  the  party,  when  he  met  Joe.  For 
a  week  this  kind  of  life  would  probably  last,  and 
then  all  would  be  over,  in  one  way  or  another,  but 
meanwhile  the  excitement  was  intense. 

On  the  next  day  Ronald  came  to  see  Joe  before 
ten  o'clock.  The  time  hung  heavily  on  his  hands, 
and  he  found  it  impossible  to  occupy  himself  with 
his  troubles.  There  were  moments  when  the  first 
impression  of  disappointment  returped  upon  him 


180  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

very  strongly,  but  he  was  conscious  of  a  curious 
duplicity  about  his  feelings,  and  he  knew  well 
enough  in  his  inmost  heart  that  he  was  only  evoking 
a  fictitious  regret  out  of  respect  for  what  he 
thought  he  ought  to  feel. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  the  people  here,  Joe,"  said 
he,  sitting  down  beside  her  almost  as  though  noth 
ing  had  happened.  "  Who  is  Mrs.  Wyndham,  to 
begin  with  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Wyndham  —  she  is  Sam  Wyndham's 
wife.  Just  that,"  said  Joe. 

"  And  Sam  Wyndham  ?  " 

"  Oh  —  he  is  one  of  the  prevalent  profession. 
He  is  a  millionnaire.  In  fact  he  is  one  of  the  real 
ones." 

"  When  do  they  get  to  be  real  ?  "  asked  Ronald. 

"  Oh,  when  they  have  more  than  ten  millions. 
The  other  ones  do  not  count  much.  It  is  much 
more  the  thing  to  be  poor,  unless  you  have  ten 
millions." 

"  That  is  something  in  my  favor,  at  all  events," 
said  Ronald. 

"  Very  much.  You  have  been  to  see  Mrs.  Wynd- 
liam,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  went  yesterday,  and  she  has  asked 
me  to  dinner  to-night.  It  is  awfully  good  of  her, 
I  must  say." 

"  You  will  like  her  very  much,  and  Sybil  Bran 
don  too,"  said  Joe.  "  Sybil  is  an  adorable  crea 
ture." 

"  She  is  most  decidedly  good-looking,  certainly. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  181 

There  is  no  doubt  about  it."  Ronald  pulled  his 
delicate  moustache  a  little.  "  Though  she  is  quite 
different  style  from  you,  Joe,"  he  added  presently, 
as  though  he  had  discovered  a  curious  fact  in  natu 
ral  history. 

"  Of  course.  Sybil  is  a  great  beauty,  and  1  am 
only  pretty,"  answered  Joe  in  perfectly  good  faith. 

"  I  think  you  are  a  great  beauty  too,"  said  Ron 
ald  critically.  "  I  am  sur  most  people  think  so, 
and  I  have  heard  lots  of  men  say  so.  Besides, 
you  are  much  more  striking-looking  than  she  is." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Ronald  !  " 
«  "  Joe  —  who  is  Mr.  Vancouver  ?  " 

"  Vancouver  !     Why  do  you  ask  especially  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  natural,  I  am  sure,"  said  Ronald  in 
a  somewhat  injured  tone.  "  You  wrote  about  him. 
He  was  the  only  person  you  mentioned  in  your  let 
ter —  that  is,  he  and  a  man  called  Harrington." 

"  Mr.  Vancouver  —  Mr.  Pocock  Vancouver  —  is 
a  middle-aged  man  of  various  accomplishments," 
said  Joe,  "  more  especially  distinguished  by  the 
fact  that  Sybil  Brandon  refused  to  marry  him 
some  time  ago.  He  is  an  enemy  of  Mr.  Harring 
ton's,  and  they  are  both  friends  of  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham's." 

"  Ah  !  "  ejaculated  Ronald,  "  and  who  is  Har 
rington  ?  " 

"  Mr.  John  Harrington  is  a  very  clever  person 
who  has  to  do  with  politics,"  said  Joe,  without 
hesitation,  but  as  she  continued  she  blushed  a  lit 
tle.  "  He  is  always  being  talked  about  because  he 


182  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

wants  to  reform  everything.  He  is  a  great  friend 
of  ours." 

"Oh — I  thought  so,"  said  Ronald.  "What 
sort  of  a  fellow  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  he  is  five-and-thirty  years  old ;  he 
is  neither  tall  nor  short,  and  he  has  red  hair,"  said 
Joe. 

"  What  a  beauty !  "  laughed  Ronald. 

"  He  is  not  at  all  ugly,  you  know,"  said  Joe,  still 
blushing. 

"  Shall  I  ever  see  him  ?  " 

"  You  will  see  him  to-night  at  Mrs.  Wyndham's ; 
he  told  me  he  was  going." 

"  Oh  —  are  you  going  too,  Joe  ?  " 

"No.  I  have  another  dinner-party.  You  will 
have  to  do  without  me." 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  always  have  to  do  without 
you,  now,"  said  Ronald  disconsolately. 

"  Don't  be  siUy,  Ronald  !  " 

"  Silly !  "  repeated  Surbiton  in  injured  tones. 
"  You  call  it  silly  to  be  cut  up  when  one  is  treated 
as  you  have  treated  me !  It  is  too  bad,  Joe  !  " 

"  You  are  a  dear,  silly  old  thing,"  said  his  cousin 
affectionately,  "  and  I  will  say  it  as  much  as  I 
please.  It  is  ever  so  much  better,  because  we  can 
always  be  like  brother  and  sister  now,  and  we  shall 
not  marry  and  quarrel  over  everything  till  we  hate 
each  other." 

"  I  think  you  are  very  heartless,  all  the  same," 
said  Ronald. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Ronald  "  — 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  183 

"  You  will  go  and  marry  one  of  these  middle^ 
aged  people  with  red  hair  "  — 

"  Be  quiet,"  said  Joe,  stamping  her  little  foot. 
"  Listen  to  me.  I  will  not  marry  you  because  I 
like  you  and  I  do  not  love  you,  and  I  never  mean  to 
marry  any  middle-aged  person.  I  shall  not  marry 
at  all,  most  probably.  Will  you  please  to  imagine 
what  life  would  have  been  like  if  we  had  married 
first,  and  found  out  afterwards  that  we  had  made 
a  mistake." 

"  Of  course  that  would  have  been  awful,"  said 
Ronald.  "  But  then  it  would  not  be  a  mistake,  be- 
«ause  I  love  you  —  like  anything,  Joe  !  " 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  You  are  quite  mistaken,  my 
dear  boy,  because  some  day  you  will  fall  desper 
ately  in  love  with  some  one  else,  and  you  will  like 
me  just  as  much  as  ever  "  — 

"  Of  course  I  should,"  said  Ronald  indignantly. 
"  Nothing  would  ever  make  any  difference  at  all !  " 

"  But,  Ronald,"  retorted  Joe  laughing,  "  if  you 
were  desperately  in  love  with  some  one  else,  how 
could  you  still  be  just  as  fond  of  me  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  but  I  should,"  said  Ronald. 
"  Besides,  it  is  absurd,  for  I  shall  never  love  any 
one  else." 

"  We  shall  see ;  but  of  course  if  you  never  do, 
we  shall  always  be  just  the  same  as  we  are  now." 

"  Well  —  that  would  not  be  so  bad,  you  know," 
said  Ronald  with  a  certain  air  of  resignation. 

After  this  conversation  Ronald  became  recon 
ciled  to  the  situation.  Joe's  remark  that  he  would 


184  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

be  able  to  love  some  one  else  very  much  without 
being  any  the  less  fond  of  herself  made  him  reflect, 
and  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  case  was 
conceivable  after  all.  He  therefore  agreed  within 
himself  that  he  would  think  no  more  about  the 
matter  for  the  present,  but  would  take  what  came 
in  his  way,  and  trust  that  Joe  would  ultimately 
change  her  mind.  But  he  went  to  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham's  that  evening  with  a  firm  determination  to 
dislike  John  Harrington  to  the  best  of  his  ability. 

A  middle-aged  man  with  red  hair !  Five-and- 
thirty  was  undoubtedly  middle-age.  Short,  too. 
But  Joe  had  blushed,  and  there  was  no  doubt 
about  it ;  this  was  the  man  who  had  won  her  affec 
tions.  Ronald  would  hate  him  cordially. 

But  John  refused  to  be  hated.  His  manner  was 
easy  and  courteous,  but  not  gentle.  He  was  evi 
dently  no  lady's  man.  He  talked  to  the  men  more 
than  to  the  women,  and  he  was  utterly  without  af 
fectation.  Indeed,  he  was  not  in  the  least  like 
what  Ronald  had  expected. 

Moreover,  Ronald  was  seated  next  to  Sybil 
Brandon  at  dinner,  and  drove  every  one  away  who 
tried  to  disturb  the  t£te-d-tete  he  succeeded  in  pro 
curing  with  her  afterwards.  He  was  surprised  at 
his  own  conduct,  but  he  somehow  connected  it  in 
his  mind  with  his  desire  to  hate  Harrington.  It 
was  not  very  clear  to  himself,  and  it  certainly  would 
have  been  incomprehensible  to  any  one  else,  but 
the  presence  of  Harrington  stimulated  him  in  his 
efforts  to  amuse  Miss  Brandon. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  185 

Sybil,  too,  in  her  quiet  way.  was  very  willing  to 
be  amused,  and  she  found  in  Ronald  Surbiton  an 
absolute  freshness  of  ideas  that  gave  her  a  new 
sense  of  pleasure.  Her  affair  with  Vancouver  had 
made  a  deep  impression  on  her  mind,  and  her 
mother's  death  soon  afterwards  had  had  the  effect 
of  withdrawing  her  entirely  from  the  world.  It 
was  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  she  liked  this  young 
Englishman,  so  different  from  most  of  the  men  she 
knew  best.  It  was  natural,  too,  that  he  should 
want  to  talk  to  her,  for  she  ^s  die  only  young  girl 
present.  At  last,  as  Ronald  began  to  feel  that 
jntimacy  which  sometimes  grows  out  of  a  simple 
conversation  between  two  sympathetic  people,  he 
turned  to  the  subject  he  had  most  in  mind,  if  not 
most  in  his  heart. 

"  You  and  my  cousin  are  very  intimate,  Miss 
Brandon,  I  believe  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes  —  I  have  grown  very  fond  of  her  in  a  few 
weeks."  Sybil  wondered  whether  Ronald  was  go 
ing  to  make  confidences.  It  seemed  to  her  rather 
early  in  the  acquaintance. 

"  Yes,  she  told  me,"  said  Ronald.  "  She  is  very 
fond  of  you,  too ;  I  went  to  see  her  this  morning." 

"  I  suppose  you  go  every  day,"  said  Sybil,  smil 
ing. 

"  No  —  not  every  day,"  answered  Ronald.  "  But 
this  morning  I  was  asking  her  about  some  of  the 
people  here.  She  seems  to  know  every  one." 

"  Yes  indeed,  she  is  immensely  popular.  Whom 
did  she  tell  you  about  ?  " 


186  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Oh  —  Mrs.  Wyndham,  and  Mr.  Wyndham, 
and  Mr.  vancouver,  and  Mr.  Harrington.  He  is 
immensely  clever,  she  says,"  added  Ronald,  with  a 
touch  of  irony  in  his  voice.  "  What  do  you  think 
about  him,  Miss  Brandon  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  judge  very  well,"  said  Sybil.  "  H< 
is  a  great  friend  of  mine,  and  I  do  not  care  in  th( 
least  whether  my  friends  are  clever  or  not." 

"  Joe  does,"  said  Ronald.  "  She  hates  stupid 
people.  She  is  very  clever  too,  you  know,  and  so 
I  suppose  she  is  right  about  Harrington." 

"  Oh  yes;  I  was  only  speaking  of  myself,"  an 
swered  Sybil.  "  He  is  probably  the  strongest  man 
in  this  part  of  the  world." 

"  He  looks  strong,"  said  Ronald,  who  was  a 
judge  of  athletes. 

"  I  mean  in  the  way  of  brains,"  said  Sybil. 
"  But  he  is  more  than  that,  for  he  is  so  splendidly 
honest." 

"  But  lots  of  people  are  honest,"  said  Ronald, 
who  did  not  want  to  concede  too  much  to  the  man 
he  meant  to  dislike. 

"  Perhaps,  but  not  so  much  as  he  is.  I  do  not 
believe  John  Harrington  ever  in  his  life  said  any 
thing  that  could  possibly  convey  a  false  impres 
sion,  or  ever  betrayed  a  confidence."  Sybil  looked 
calmly  across  the  room  at  John,  who  was  talking 
earnestly  to  Sam  Wyndham. 

"  But  has  he  no  defects  at  all  ?  What  a  model 
of  faultlessness  !  "  exclaimed  Ronald. 

"  People   say  he  is   self-centred,  whatever  that 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  187 

may  mean.  He  is  certainly  a  very  ambitious  man, 
but  his  ambitions  are  large,  and  he  makes  no  se 
cret  of  them.  He  will  make  a  great  stir  in  the 
world  some  day." 

Ronald  would  have  liked  to  ask  about  Vancouver 
also,  but  he  fortunately  remembered  what  Joe  had 
told  him  that  morning,  and  did  not  ask  his  ques 
tions  of  Sybil.  But  he  went  home  that  night  won 
dering  what  manner  of  man  this  Harrington  might 
be,  concerning  whom  such  great  things  were  said. 
He  was  conscious  also  that  he  had  not  been  very 
wise  in  what  he  had  asked  of  Sybil,  and  he  was 
dissatisfied  at  not  having  heard  anything  about  the 
friendship  that  existed  between  Harrington  and 
Joe.  But  on  the  whole  he  had  enjoyed  the  even 
ing  very  much  —  almost  too  much,  when  he  re 
membered  the  things  Joe  had  said  to  him  in  the 
morning.  It  ought  not  to  be  possible,  he  thought, 
for  a  jilted  lover  to  look  so  pleasantly  on  life. 

"  Well,"  said  Sam  Wyndham  to  his  wife  when 
everybody  was  gone,  and  he  had  lit  a  big  cigar ; 
"  well,  it  was  a  pleasant  kind  of  an  evening,  was 
not  it?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Sam,  sitting  down  in  a  low 
easy-chair  for  a  chat  with  her  husband.  "  What 
a  nice  boy  that  young  Englishman  is." 

"  I  was  just  going  to  say  so,"  said  Sam.  "  He 
made  himself  pretty  comfortable  with  Sybil,  did 
he  not  ?  I  could  not  help  thinking  they  looked  a 
very  pretty  pair  as  they  sat  in  that  corner.  What 
is  he?" 


188  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  He  is  Miss  Thorn's  cousin.  Sam,  you  really 
must  not  drop  your  ashes  on  the  carpet.  There 
are  no  end  of  saucers  and  things  about." 

"  Oh,  bother  the  carpet,  my  dear,"  said  Sam 
good-naturedly  ;  "  tell  me  about  that  young  fellow 
—  what  is  his  name  ?  —  Surbiton,  is  not  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  well,  there  is  not  very  much  to  tell. 
He  is  here  traveling  for  amusement,  just  like  any 
other  young  Englishman.  For  my  part  I  expected 
he  had  come  here  to  marry  his  cousin,  because 
Englishmen  always  marry  their  cousins.  But 
Sybil  says  it  is  not  true." 

"  How  does  she  come  to  know  ?  "  inquired  Sam, 
rolling  his  cigar  in  his  mouth  and  looking  at  the 
ceiling. 

"  I  suppose  Miss  Thorn  told  her.  She  ought  to 
know,  any  way." 

"  Well,  one  would  think  so.  By  the  way,  this 
election  is  going  to  turn  out  a  queer  sort  of  a  busi 
ness,  I  expect.  John  says  the  only  thing  that  is 
doubtful  is  that  fellow  Patrick  Ballymolloy  and 
his  men.  Now  is  not  that  just  about  the  queerest 
thing  you  ever  heard  of  ?  A  set  of  Irishmen  in 
the  Legislature  who  are  not  sure  they  can  manage 
to  vote  for  a  Democratic  senator  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  something  altogether  new,"  said 
Mrs.  Wyndham.  "  But  it  seems  so  funny  that 
John  should  come  telling  you  all  about  his  elec 
tion,  when  you  are  such  a  Republican,  and  would 
go  straight  against  him  if  you  had  anything  to  say 
about  it." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  189 

"  Oh,  he  knows  I  don't  vote  or  anything,"  said 
Sam. 

"  Of  course  you  don't  vote,  because  you  are  not 
in  the  Legislature.  But  if  you  did,  you  would  go 
against  him,  would  not  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  am  not  sure,"  answered  Sam  in  a 
drawl  of  uncertainty.  "  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  my 
dear,  John  Harrington  is  not  such  a  bad  Republi- 
can  after  all,  though  he  is  a  Democrat.  And  it  is 
my  belief  he  could  call  himself  a  Republican,  and 
could  profess  to  believe  just  the  same  things  as  he 
does  now,  if  he  only  took  a  little  care." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  COUNCIL  of  three  men  sat  in  certain  rooms^ 
in  Conduit  Street,  London.  There  was  nothing 
whatever  about  the  bachelor's  front  room  overlook 
ing  the  thoroughfare  to  suggest  secrecy,  nor  did 
any  one  of  the  three  gentlemen  who  sat  in  easy- 
chairs,  with  cigars  in  their  mouths,  in  any  way  re 
semble  a  conspirator.  They  were  neither  masked 
nor  wrapped  in  cloaks,  but  wore  the  ordinary  garb 
of  fashionably  civilized  life.  For  the  sake  of  clear 
ness  and  convenience,  they  can  be  designated  as  X, 
Y,  and  Z.  X  was  the  president  on  the  present 
occasion,  but  the  office  was  not  held  permanently, 
devolving  upon  each  of  the  three  in  succession  at 
each  successive  meeting. 

X  was  a  man  sixty  years  of  age,  clean-shaved, 
with  smooth  iron-gray  hair  and  bushy  eyebrows, 
from  beneath  which  shone  a  pair  of  preternatu- 
rally  bright  blue  eyes.  His  face  was  of  a  strong, 
even,  healthy  red ;  he  was  stout,  but  rather  thick 
and  massive  than  corpulent ;  his  hands  were  of  the 
square  type,  with  thick  straight  fingers  and  large 
nails,  the  great  blue  veins  showing  strongly  through 
the  white  skin.  He  was  dressed  in  black,  as  though 
in  mourning,  and  his  clothes  fitted  smoothly  over 
his  short  heavy  figure. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  191 

Y  was  very  tall  and  slight,  and  it  was  not  easy 
to  make  a  guess  at  his  age,  for  his  hair  was  sandy 
and  thick,  and  his  military  moustache  concealed 
the  lines  about  his  mouth.  His  forehead  was  high 
and  broad,  and  the  extreme  prominence  between 
his  brows  made  his  profile  look  as  though  the 
facial  angles  were  reversed,  as  in  certain  busts  of 
Greek  philosophers.  His  fingers  were  well  shaped, 
but  extremely  long  and  thin.  He  wore  the  high 
collar  of  the  period,  with  a  white  tie  fastened  by  a 
pin  consisting  of  a  single  large  pearl,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  remainder  of  his  dress  was  with 
him  a  subject  of  great  attention.  Y  might  be  any 
where  from  forty  to  fifty  years  of  age. 

Z  was  the  eldest  of  the  three,  and  in  some  re 
spects  the  most  remarkable  in  appearance.  He 
was  well  proportioned,  except  that  his  head  seemed 
large  for  his  body.  His  face  was  perfectly  color 
less,  and  his  thin  hair  was  white  and  long  and  dis 
orderly.  A  fringe  of  snowy  beard  encircled  his 
throat  like  a  scarf,  but  his  lips  and  cheeks  were 
clean-shaved.  The  dead  waxen  whiteness  of  his 
face  was  thrown  into  startling  relief  by  his  great 
black  eyes,  in  which  there  was  a  depth  and  a  fire 
when  he  was  roused  that  contrasted  strongly  with 
his  aged  appearance.  His  dress  was  simple  in  the 
extreme,  and  of  the  darkest  colors. 

The  three  sat  in  their  easy-chairs  round  the 
coal  fire.  It  was  high  noon  in  London,  and  the 
weather  was  moderately  fine ;  that  is  to  say,  it  was 
possible  to  read  in  the  room  without  lighting  the 
gas.  X  held  a  telegram  in  his  hand. 


192  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"This  is  a  perfectly  clear  case  against  us,"  he 
remarked  in  a  quiet,  business-like  manner. 

"It  has  occurred  at  such  an  unfortunate  time," 
said  Y,  who  spoke  very  slowly  and  distinctly,  with 
an  English  accent. 

"  We  shall  do  it  yet,"  said  Z,  confidently. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  president,  "  it  will  not  do 
to  hesitate.  There  is  an  individual  in  this  case  who 
will  not  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet.  His 
name  is  Mr.  Patrick  Ballymolloy.  We  all  know 
about  him,  I  expect  ?  " 

"I  know  him  very  well  indeed,"  said  old  Z. 
"It  was  I  who  put  him  in  the  book."  He  rose 
quickly  and  took  a  large  volume  from  a  shelf  near 
by.  It  was  a  sort  of  ledger,  with  the  letters  of 
the  alphabet  printed  on  the  cut  edges  of  the  leaves. 

"  I  don't  believe  Y  knows  him,"  said  the  pres 
ident.  "  Please  read  him  to  us."  Z  turned  over 
the  leaves  quickly. 

"  B  —  Bally—  Bally moUoy —Patrick  —Yes,"  he 
said,  finding  the  place.  "  Patrick  Ballymolloy. 
Irish  iron  man.  Boston,  Mass.  Drinks.  Takes 
money  from  both  sides.  Voted  generally  Demo 
cratic  ticket.  P.  S.  1882,  opposed  B.  in  election 
for  Governor.  Iron  interest  increased.  P.  S.  1883, 
owns  twenty  votes  in  House.  Costs  more  than  he 
did.  That  is  all,"  said  Z,  shutting  up  the  book. 

"  Quite  enough,"  said  the  president.  "  Mr. 
Patrick  Ballymolloy  and  his  twenty  votes  will 
bother  us.  What  a  pity  J.  H.  made  that  speech !  " 

"It  appears  that  as   Patrick   has   grown   rick, 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  193 

Patrick  has  grown  fond  of  protection,  then,"  re 
marked  Y,  crossing  one  long  leg  over  the  other. 

"  Exactly,"  said  Z.  "  That  is  it.  Now  the 
question  is,  who  owns  Patrick  ?  Anybody  know  ?  " 

"  Whoever  can  pay  for  him,  I  expect,"  said  the 
president. 

"  Now  I  have  an  idea,"  said  the  old  man  sud 
denly,  and  again  he  dived  into  the  book.  "  Did 
either  of  you  ever  know  a  man  called  Vancou 
ver?" 

"  Yes  —  I  know  all  about  him,"  said  Y,  and  a 
contemptuous  smile  hinted  beforehand  what  he 
thought  of  the  man. 

"  I  made  an  entry  about  him  the  other  day," 
said  the  president.  "  You  will  find  a  good  deal 
against  his  name." 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  Z  again.  "  Pocock  Vancou 
ver.  Railways.  Rep.  Boston,  Mass.  Was  taxed 
in  1870  for  nearly  a  million  dollars.  Weak  char 
acter,  very  astute.  Takes  no  money.  Believed  to 
be  dissipated,  but  he  cleverly  conceals  it.  Never 
votes.  Has  extensive  financial  interests.  1880, 
taxed  for  nearly  three  millions.  1881,  paid  ten 
thousand  dollars  to  Patrick  Ballymolloy  (D)  for 
carrying  a  motion  for  the  Monadminck  Railroad 
(see  Railroads).  1882,  voted  for  Butler  "  — 

*'  Hollo !  "  exclaimed  the  president. 

"  Wait,"  said  Z,  "  there  is  more.  1883,  thought 
to  be  writer  of  articles  against  J.  H.  in  Boston 
'  Daily  Standard.'  Subsequently  confirmed  by  J. 
H.  That  is  alL" 

13 


194  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  president,  "  that  last  note  is 
mine.  Harrington  wired  it  yesterday  with  other 
things.  But  I  was  hurried  and  did  not  read  his 
old  record.  Things  could  not  be  much  worse. 
You  see  Harrington  has  no  book  with  him,  or  he 
would  know  all  this,  and  be  on  the  lookout." 

"  Has  he  figured  it  out? "  inquired  Y. 

"  Yes,  he  has  figured  it  out.  He  is  a  first-rate 
man,  and  he  has  the  whole  thing  down  cold.  Bal- 
lymolloy  and  his  twenty  votes  will  carry  the  elec 
tion,  and  if  Vancouver  cares  he  can  buy  Mr.  Bal- 
lymolloy  as  he  has  done  before.  He  does  care,  if 
he  is  going  to  take  the  trouble  to  write  articles 
against  J.  H.,  depend  upon  it." 

"  Well,  there  is  nothing  for  it,"  said  Z,  who, 
in  spite  of  his  age,  was  the  most  impulsive  of  the 
three.  "  We  must  buy  Ballymolloy  ourselves, 
with  his  twenty  men." 

"  I  think  that  would  be  a  mistake,"  said  the 
president. 

"  Do  you  ?  "  said  Z.  "  What  do  you  say  ?  "  he 
asked,  turning  to  Y. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Y. 

"  Then  we  will  argue  it,  I  suppose,"  said  Z. 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  president.  "  I  will  be 
gin."  He  settled  himself  in  his  chair  and  knocked 
the  ashes  from  his  cigar. 

"  I  will  begin  by  stating  the  exact  position,"  he 
said.  "  In  the  first  place  this  whole  affair  is  acci 
dental,  resulting  from  the  death  of  the  junior  sen 
ator.  No  one  could  foresee  this  event.  We  had 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  196 

arranged  to  put  in  John  Harrington  at  the  regular 
vacancy  next  year,  and  we  are  now  very  busy  with 
a  most  important  business  here  in  London.  If  we 
were  on  the  spot,  as  one  of  us  could  have  been  had 
we  known  that  the  senator  would  die,  it  would 
have  been  another  matter.  This  thing  will  be 
settled  by  next  Saturday  at  the  latest,  but  prob 
ably  earlier.  I  am  opposed  to  buying  Ballymol- 
loy,  because  it  is  an  uncertain  purchase.  He  has 
taken  money  from  both  sides,  and  if  he  has  tho 
chance  he  will  do  it  again.  If  we  were  present 
it  would  be  different,  for  we  could  hold  him  to  his 
bargain. 

"  We  do  not  like  buying,  and  we  only  do  it  in 
very  urgent  cases,  and  when  we  are  certain  of  the 
result.  To  buy  without  certainty  is  simply  to  be 
gin  a  system  of  reckless  bribery,  which  is  exactly 
what  we  want  to  put  down.  Moreover,  it  is  a  bad 
plan  to  bribe  a  man  who  is  interested  in  iron. 
The  man  in  that  business  ought  to  be  with  us  any 
way,  without  anything  but  a  little  talking  to. 
When  you  have  stated  any  reasons  to  the  contrary 
I  will  tell  you  what  I  propose  instead.  That  is 
all." 

During  the  president's  little  speech,  Y  and  Z 
had  listened  attentively.  When  he  had  finished, 
Z  turned  in  his  chair  and  took  his  cigar  from  his 
lips. 

"  I  think,"  said  Z,  "  that  the  case  is  urgent. 
The  question  is  just  about  coming  to  a  head,  and 
we  want  all  the  men  we  can  get  at  any  price.  It 


196  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

will  not  do  to  let  a  chance  slip.  If  we  can  put 
J.  H.  in  the  senate  now,  we  may  put  another  man 
in  at  the  vacancy.  That  makes  two  men  instead  of 
one.  I  am  aware  that  it  would  be  an  improbable 
thing  to  get  two  of  our  men  in  for  Massachusetts ; 
but  I  believe  it  caD  be  done,  and  for  that  reason  I 
think  we  ought  to  make  an  effort  to  get  J.  H.  in 
now.  It  may  cost  something,  but  I  do  not  believe 
it  is  uncertain.  I  expect  Vancouver  is  not  the 
sort  of  man  to  spend  much  just  for  the  sake  of 
spite.  The  question  of  buying  as  a  rule  is  another 
matter.  None  of  us  want  that ;  but  if  the  case  is 
urgent  I  think  there  is  no  question  about  its  being 
right.  Of  course  it  is  a  great  pity  J.  H.  said  any 
thing  about  protection  in  that  speech.  He  did 
not  mean  to,  but  he  could  not  help  it,  and  at  all 
events  he  had  no  idea  his  election  was  so  near.  If 
we  are  not  certain  of  the  result,  J.  H.  ought  to 
withdraw,  because  it  will  injure  his  chance  at  the 
vacancy  to  have  him  defeated  now.  That  is  all  I 
have  to  say." 

"  I  am  of  opinion,"  said  the  president,  "  that  our 
best  plan  is  to  let  John  Harrington  take  his  chance. 
You  know  who  his  opponent  is,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Ira  C.  Calvin,"  said  Y  and  Z  together. 

"  Calvin  refused  last  night,"  said  the  president, 
"  and  they  have  put  Jobbins  in  his  place.  Here  is 
the  telegram.  It  is  code  three,"  he  remarked, 
handing  it  to  Z. 

Z  read  it,  and  his  face  expressed  the  greatest 
surprise. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  197 

"  But  Jobbins  belongs  to  us,"  he  cried.  "  He 
will  not  move  hand  or  foot  unless  we  advise  him !  " 

"Of  course,"  said  the  president.  "But  Mr. 
Ballymolloy  does  not  know  that,  nor  any  other 
member  of  the  Legislature.  Harrington  himself 
does  not  know  it.  Verdict,  please." 

"  Verdict  against  buying,"  said  Y. 

"  Naturally,"  said  Z.  "  What  a  set  of  fools  they 
are !  How  about  withdrawing  Harrington  ?  " 

"  I  object,"  said  the  president.     "  Proceed." 

"  I  think  it  will  injure  his  chance  at  the  vacancy 
to  have  him  defeated  now,  as  I  said  before.  That 
ifc  all,"  said  Z. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  dangerous  to  withdraw  him 
before  so  weak  a  man  as  Jobbins.  It  would  hurt 
his  reputation.  Besides,  our  second  man  is  in 
Washington  arguing  a  case  and,  after  all,  there  is 
a  bare  chance  that  J  H.  may  win.  If  he  does  not, 
we  win  all  the  same,  for  Jobbins  is  in  chains. 
Verdict,  please." 

Y  was  silent,  and  smoked  thoughtfully.  For  five 
minutes  no  one  spoke,  and  the  president  occupied 
the  time  in  arranging  some  papers. 

"  Let  him  stand  his  chance,"  said  Y,  at  last.  In 
spite  of  the  apparent  informality  of  the  meetings  of 
the  three,  there  was  an  unchangeable  rule  in  their 
proceedings.  Whenever  a  question  arose,  the  mem 
ber  who  first  objected  to  the  proposition  argued  the 
case  briefly,  or  at  length,  with  the  proposer,  and 
the  third  gave  the  verdict,  agaii!«t  which  there  was 
no  appeal. 


1 98  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

These  three  strong  men  possessed  between  them 
an  enormous  power.  It  rarely  happened  that  they 
could  all  meet  together  and  settle  upon  their  course 
of  action  by  word  of  mouth,  but  constant  corre 
spondence  and  the  use  of  an  extensive  set  of  tele 
graphic  codes  kept  them  in  unbroken  communica 
tion.  No  oaths  or  ceremonies  bound  them  together, 
for  they  belonged  to  a  small  community  of  men 
which  has  existed  from  the  earliest  days  of  Ameri 
can  independence,  and  which  took  its  rise  before 
that  period. 

Into  this  council  of  three,  men  of  remarkable 
ability  and  spotless  character  were  elected  without 
much  respect  of  age  whenever  a  vacancy  occurred. 
They  worked  quietly,  with  one  immutable  politi 
cal  purpose,  with  which  they  allowed  no  prejudiced 
party  view  to  interfere.  Always  having  under  their 
immediate  control  some  of  the  best  talent  in  the 
country,  and  frequently  commanding  vast  financial 
resources,  these  men  and  their  predecessors  had 
more  than  once  turned  the  scale  of  the  country's 
future.  They  had  committed  great  mistakes,  but 
they  had  also  brought  about  noble  results.  It  had 
frequently  occurred  that  all  the  three  members  of 
the  council  simultaneously  held  seats  in  the  senate, 
or  that  one  or  more  were  high  in  office.  More  than 
one  President  since  Washington  had  sat  at  one  time 
or  another  in  the  triumvirate ;  secretaries  of  state, 
orators,  lawyers,  financiers,  and  philanthrophists 
had  given  the  best  years  of  their  lives  to  the  duties 
of  the  council ;  and  yet,  so  perfect  was  the  organiza- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  199 

tion,  the  tests  were  so  careful,  and  so  marvelously 
profound  was  the  insight  of  the  leaders  into  human 
character,  that  of  all  these  men,  not  one  had  ever  be 
trayed  the  confidence  placed  in  him.  In  the  truest 
sense  they  and  their  immediate  supporters  formed 
an  order ;  an  order  of  true  men,  with  whom  the 
love  of  justice,  honor,  and  freedom  took  the  place 
of  oath  and  ceremonial,  binding  them  by  stronger 
obligations  than  ever  bound  a  ring  of  conspirators 
or  a  community  of  religious  zealots. 

The  great  element  of  secrecy  as  regards  the 
outer  world  lay  in  the  fact  that  only  two  men  at 
any  one  time  knew  of  the  existence  of  the  council 
01  three,  and  these  were  those  who  were  considered 
fit  to  sit  in  the  council  themselves.  Even  these 
two  did  not  know  more  than  one  of  the  three  lead 
ers  as  such,  though  probably  personally  and  even 
intimately  acquainted  with  all  three.  The  body  of 
men  whom  the  council  controlled  was  ignorant  of 
its  existence  therefore,  and  was  composed  of  the 
personal  adherents  of  each  of  the  three.  Mani 
festly  one  member  of  the  council  could,  with  the 
consent  and  cooperation  of  the  other  two,  com 
mand  the  influence  of  the  whole  body  of  political 
adherents  in  favor  of  one  of  his  friends,  at  any 
time,  leaving  the  individual  in  entire  ignorance  of 
the  power  employed  for  his  advancement.  When 
a  vacancy  occurred  in  the  council,  by  death  or  old 
age  of  any  member,  one  of  the  two  already  desig 
nated  took  the  place,  while  the  other  remained 
ignorant  of  the  fact  that  any  change  had  occurred, 


200  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

unless  the  vacancy  was  caused  by  the  withdrawal 
of  the  member  he  had  known,  in  which  case  he 
was  put  in  communication  with  that  member  with 
whom  he  was  most  intimately  acquainted.  By  this 
system  of  management  no  one  man  knew  more 
than  one  of  the  actual  leaders  until  he  was  him 
self  one  of  the  three.  At  the  present  time  Z  had 
been  in  the  council  nearly  thirty  years,  and  X  for 
upwards  of  twenty,  while  Y,  who  was  in  reality 
fifty  years  old,  had  received  his  seat  fifteen  years 
before,  at  the  age  of  thirty-five.  A  year  ago  one 
of  the  men  selected  to  fill  a  possible  vacancy  had 
died,  and  John  Harrington  was  chosen  in  his 
place. 

It  has  been  seen  that  the  three  kept  a  sort  of 
political  ledger,  which  was  always  in  the  hands  of 
the  president  for  the  time  being,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  make  the  insertions  necessary  from  time  to 
time.  Some  conception  of  the  extent  and  value  of 
the  book  may  be  formed  from  the  fact  that  it  con 
tained  upwards  of  ten  thousand  names,  including 
those  of  almost  every  prominent  man,  and  of  not 
a  few  remarkable  women  in  the  principal  centres 
of  the  country.  The  details  given  were  invariably 
brief  and  to  the  point,  written  down  in  a  simple 
but  safe  form  of  cipher  which  was  perfectly  famil 
iar  to  every  one  of  the  three.  This  vast  mass  of 
information  was  simply  the  outcome  of  the  per 
sonal  experience  of  the  leaders,  and  of  their  trusted 
friends,  but  no  detail  which  could  by  any  possibil 
ity  be  of  use  escaped  being  committed  to  paper, 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  201 

auci  the  result  was  in  many  cases  a  positive  knowl 
edge  of  future  events,  which,  to  any  one  unac 
quainted  with  the  system,  must  have  appeared  lit 
tle  short  of  miraculous. 

"  What  time  is  it  in  Boston  ? "  inquired  the 
president,  rising  and  going  to  the  writing-table. 

"  Twenty-eight  minutes  past  seven,"  said  Y,  pro 
ducing  an  enormous  three-dial  time-piece,  set  to  in 
dicate  simultaneously  the  time  of  day  in  London, 
Boston,  and  Washington. 

"All  right,  there  is  plenty  of  time,"  answered 
X,  writing  out  a  dispatch  on  a  broad  white  sheet 
of  cable  office  paper.  "  See  here  —  is  this  all 
right  ?  "  he  asked,  when  he  had  done. 

The  message  ran  as  follows :  "  Do  not  withdraw. 
If  possible  gain  Ballymolloy  and  men,  but  on  no 
account  pay  for  them.  If  asked,  say  iron  protec 
tion  necessary  at  present,  and  probably  for  many 
years." 

Y  and  Z  read  the  telegram,  and  said  it  would 
do.  In  ten  minutes  it  was  taken  to  the  telegraph 
office  by  X's  servant. 

"  And  now,"  said  X,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar,  "  we 
have  disposed  of  this  accident,  and  we  can  turn  to 
our  regular  business.  The  question  is  broadly, 
what  effect  will  be  produced  by  suddenly  throw 
ing  eight  or  ten  millions  of  English  money  into  an 
American  enterprise  ?  " 

"  When  Englishmen  are  not  making  money, 
they  are  a  particularly  disagreeable  set  of  people 
to  deal  with,"  remarked  Y,  who  would  have  been 


202  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

taken  for  an  Englishman  himself  in  any  part  oi 
the  world. 

And  so  the  council  left  John  Harrington,  and 
turned  to  other  matters  which  do  not  in  any  way 
concern  this  tale. 

John  received  the  dispatch  at  half -past  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning  after  the  dinner  at  Mrs. 
Wyndham's,  and  he  read  ii;  without  comprehend 
ing  precisely  the  position  taken  by  his  instructor. 
Nevertheless,  the  order  coincided  with  what  he 
would  have  done  if  left  to  himself.  He  of  course 
could  not  know  that  even  if  his  opponent  were 
elected  it  would  be  a  gain  to  his  own  party,  for 
the  outward  life  of  Mr.  Jobbins  gave  no  cause  for 
believing  that  he  was  in  anybody's  power.  Har 
rington  was  left  to  suppose  that,  if  he  failed  to  get 
the  votes  of  Patrick  Bally molloy  and  his  party, 
the  election  would  be  a  dead  loss.  Nevertheless, 
he  rejoiced  that  the  said  Patrick  was  not  to  be 
bought.  An  honorable  failure,  wherein  he  might 
honestly  say  that  he  had  bribed  no  one,  nor  used 
any  undue  pressure,  would  in  his  opinion  be  better 
than  to  be  elected  ten  times  over  by  money  and 
promises  of  political  jobbery. 

The  end  rarely  justifies  the  means,  and  there 
are  means  so  foul  that  they  would  blot  any  result 
into  their  own  filthiness.  All  that  the  world  can 
write,  or  think,  or  say,  will  never  make  it  honor 
able  or  noble  to  bribe  and  tell  lies.  Men  who  lie 
are  not  brave  because  they  are  willing  to  be  shot 
at,  in  some  instances,  by  the  men  their  falsehoods 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  205 

have  injured.  Men  who  pay  others  to  agree  with 
them  are  doing  a  wrong  upon  the  dignity  of  human 
nature,  and  they  very  generally  end  by  saying  that 
human  nature  has  no  dignity  at  all,  and  very  pos 
sibly  by  being  themselves  corrupted. 

Nevertheless,  so  great  is  the  interest  which  men, 
even  upright  and  honorable  men,  take  in  the  aims 
they  follow,  that  they  believe  it  possible  to  wade 
knee-deep  through  mud,  and  then  ascend  to  the 
temple  of  fame  without  dragging  the  mud  with 
them,  and  befouling  the  white  marble  steps. 

"  Political  necessity  !  "  What  deeds  are  done 
in»  thy  name !  What  a  merciful  and  polite  god 
dess  was  the  necessity  of  the  ancients,  compared 
with  the  necessity  of  the  moderns.  Political  ne 
cessity  has  been  hard  at  work  in  our  times  from 
Robespierre  to  Sedan,  from  St.  Helena  to  the 
Vatican,  from  the  Tea-chests  of  Boston  Harbor  to 
the  Great  Rebellion.  Political  necessity  has  done 
more  lying,  more  bribery,  more  murdering,  and 
more  stealing  in  a  century,  than  could  have  been 
invented  by  all  the  Roman  emperors  together* 
with  the  assistance  of  the  devil  himself. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN  all  the  endless  folk-lore  of  proverbs,  there  is 
perhaps  no  adage  more  true  than  that  which  warns 
young  people  to  beware  of  a  new  love  until  they 
have  done  with  the  old,  and  as  Ronald  Surbiton 
reflected  on  his  position,  the  old  rhyme  ran  through 
his  head.  Ho  was  strongly  attracted  by  Sybil 
Brandon,  but,  at  the  same  time,  he  still  felt  that 
he  ought  to  make  an  effort  to  win  Joe  back.  It 
seemed  so  unmanly  to  relinquish  her  without  a 
struggle,  just  because  she  said  she  did  not  love 
him.  It  could  not  be  true,  for  they  had  loved  each 
other  so  long. 

When  Ronald  looked  out  of  the  window  of  his 
room  in  the  hotel,  on  the  morning  after  Mrs. 
Wyndham's  dinner,  the  snow  was  falling  as  it  can 
only  fall  in  Boston.  The  great  houses  opposite 
were  almost  hidden  from  view  by  the  soft,  flutter 
ing  flakes,  and  below,  in  the  broad  street,  the 
horse-cars  moved  slowly  along  like  immense  white 
turtles  ploughing  their  way  through  deep  white 
sand.  The  sound  of  the  bells  was  muffled  as  it 
came  up,  and  the  scraping  of  the  Irishmen's  heavy 
spades  on  the  pavement  before  the  hotel  followed 
by  the  regular  fall  of  the  great  shovelfuls  on  the 
heap,  as  they  stacked  the  snow,  sounded  like  the 
-digging  of  a  gigantic  grave. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  205 

Ronald  felt  that  his  spirits  were  depressed.  He 
watched  the  drifting  storm  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  turned  away  and  looked  for  a  novel  in  his 
bag,  and  filled  a  pipe  with  some  English  tobacco 
he  had  jealously  guarded  from  the  lynx-eyed  cus 
tom-house  men  in  New  York,  and  then  sat  down 
with  a  sigh  before  his  small  coal  fire,  and  prepared 
to  pass  the  morning,  in  solitude. 

But  Ronald  was  not  fond  of  reading,  and  at  the- 
end  of  half  an  hour  he  threw  his  book  and  his  pipe 
aside,  and  stretched  his  long  limbs.  Then  he  rose 
and  went  to  the  window  again  with  an  expression 
•f  utter  weariness  such  as  only  an  Englishman  can 
put  on  when  he  is  thoroughly  bored.  The  snow 
was  falling  as  thickly  as  ever,  and  the  turtle- 
backed  horse-cars  crawled  by  through  the  drifts^ 
more  and  more  slowly.  Ronald  turned  away  with 
an  impatient  ejaculation,  and  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  would  go  and  see  Joe  at  once.  He  wrapped 
himself  carefully  in  a  huge  ulster  overcoat  and 
went  out. 

Joe  was  sitting  alone  in  the  drawing-room,  curled 
up  in  an  old-fashioned  arm-chair  by  the  fire,  with 
a  book  in  her  lap  which  she  was  not  reading.  She 
had  asked  her  aunt  for  something  about  politics, 
and  Miss  Schenectady  had  given  her  the  "  Life  of 
Rufus  Choate,"  in  two  large  black  volumes.  The 
book  was  interesting,  but  in  Joe's  mind  it  was  but 
a  step  from  the  speeches  and  doings  of  the  great 
and  brilliant  lawyer-senator  to  the  speeches  and 
doings  of  John  Harrington.  And  so  after  a  while 


206  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

the  book  dropped  upon  her  knee  and  she  leaned 
far  back  in  the  chair,  her  great  brown  eyes  staring 
dreamily  at  the  glowing  coals. 

"  I  was  so  awfully  lonely,"  said  Ronald,  sitting 
down  beside  her,  "  that  I  came  here.  You  do  not 
mind,  Joe,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Mind  ?  No !  I  am  very  glad.  It  must  be 
dreadfully  lonely  for  you  at  the  hotel.  What  have 
you  been  doing  with  yourself  ?  " 

"  Oh  —  trying  to  read.  And  then,  I  was  think 
ing  about  you." 

"  That  is  not  much  of  an  occupation.  See  how 
industrious  I  am.  I  have  been  reading  the  '  Life 
and  Writings  of  Rufus  Choate.'  I  am  getting  to 
be  a  complete  Bostonian." 

"  Have  you  read  it  all  ?  I  never  heard  of  him. 
Who  was  he?" 

"  He  was  an  extremely  clever  man.  He  must 
have  been  very  nice,  and  his  speeches  are  splendid. 
You  ought  to  read  them." 

"  Joe,  you  are  going  to  be  a  regular  blue-stock 
ing  !  The  idea  of  spending  your  time  in  reading 
such  stuff.  Why,  it  would  be  almost  better  to 
read  the  parliamentary  reports  in  the  '  Times ! ' 
Just  fancy !  "  Ronald  laughed  at  the  idea  of  any 
human  being  descending  to  such  drudgery. 

"  Don't  be  silly,  Ronald.  You  do  not  know  any 
thing  about  it,"  said  Joe. 

"  Oh,  it  is  of  no  use  discussing  the  question," 
answered  Ronald.  "  You  young  women  are  grow 
ing  altogether  too  clever,  with  your  politics,  and 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  207 

your  philosophy,  and  your  culture.  I  hate  Amer 
ica  !  " 

"If  you  really  knew  anything  about  it,  you 
would  like  it  very  much.  Besides,  you  have  no 
right  to  say  you  hate  it.  The  people  here  have 
been  very  good  to  you  already.  You  ought  not  to 
abuse  them." 

"  No  —  not  the  people.  But  just  look  at  that 
snow-storm,  Joe,  and  tell  me  whether  America  is  a 
place  for  human  beings  to  live  in." 

"  It  is  much  prettier  than  a  Scotch  mist,  and 
ever  so  much  clearer  than  a  fog  in  London,"  re 
torted  Joe. 

"  But  there  is  nothing  for  a  fellow  to  do  on  a 
day  like  this,"  said  Ronald  sulkily. 

"Nothing,  but  to  come  and  see  his  cousin,  and 
abuse  everything  to  her,  and  try  to  make  her  as 
discontented  as  himself,"  said  Joe,  mimicking  his 
tone. 

"  If  I  thought  you  liked  me  to  come  and  see 
you  "  —  began  Ronald. 

"Well?" 

"  It  would  be  different,  you  know." 

"  I  like  you  when  you  are  nice  and  good-tem 
pered,"  said  Joe.  "  But  when  you  are  bored  you 
are  simply  —  well,  you  are  dreadful."  Joe  raised 
her  eyebrows  and  tapped  with  her  fingers  on  the 
arm  of  the  chair. 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  ever  be  bored  when  I 
come  to  see  you,  Joe?"  asked  Ronald,  changing 
his  tone. 


208  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  You  act  as  if  you  were,  precisely.  You  know 
people  who  are  bored  are  generally  bores  them 
selves." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Ronald.    "  How  kind  you  are !  " 

"  Do  say  something  nice,  Ronald.  You  have 
done  nothing  but  find  fault  since  you  came.  Have 
you  heard  from  home  ?  " 

"  No.  There  has  not  been  time  yet.  Why  do 
you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  I  thought  you  might  say  something 
less  disagreeable  about  home  than  you  seem  able 
to  say  about  things  here,"  said  Joe  tartly. 

"  You  do  not  want  me  this  morning.  I  will  go 
away  again,"  said  Ronald  with  a  gloomy  frown. 
He  rose  to  his  feet,  as  though  about  to  take  his 
leave. 

"Oh,  don't  go,  Ronald."  He  paused.  "Be 
sides,"  added  Joe,  "  Sybil  will  be  here  in  a  little 
while." 

"  You  need  not  offer  me  Miss  Brandon  as  an  in 
ducement  to  stay  with  you,  Joe,  if  you  really  want 
me.  Twenty  Miss  Brandons  would  not  make  any 
differerce ! " 

"  Really  ?  "  said  Joe  smiling.  "  You  are  a  dear 
good  boy,  Ronald,  when  you  are  nice,"  she  added 
presently.  "  Sit  down  again." 

Ronald  went  back  to  his  seat  beside  her,  and 
they  were  both  silent  for  a  while.  Joe  repented  a 
little,  for  she  thought  she  had  been  teasing  him, 
and  she  reflected  that  she  ought  to  be  doing  her 
best  to  make  him  happy. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  209 

"  Joe  —  do  not  you  think  it  would  be  very  pleas 
ant  to  be  always  like  this  ?  "  said  Ronald  after  a* 
time. 

"How— like  this?" 

"  Together,"  said  Ronald  softly,  and  a  gentle 
look  came  into  his  handsome  face,  as  he  looked  up 
at  his  cousin.  "  Together  —  only  in  our  own 
home." 

Joe  did  not  answer,  but  the  color  came  to  her 
cheeks,  and  she  looked  annoyed.  She  had  hoped 
that  the  matter  was  settled  forever,  for  it  seemed 
so  easy  for  her.  Ronald  misinterpreted  the  blush. 
¥or  the  moment  the  old  conviction  came  back  to 
him  that  she  was  to  be  his  wife,  and  if  it  was  not 
exactly  love  that  he  felt,  it  was  a  satisfaction  al 
most  great  enough  to  take  its  place. 

"  Would  it  not  ?  "  said  he  presently. 

"  Please  do  not  talk  about  it,  Ronald.  What  is 
the  use  ?  I  have  said  all  there  is  to  say,  I  am 
sure." 

"But  I  have  not,"  he  answered,  insisting. 
"  Please,  Joe  dearest,  think  about  it  seriously. 
Think  what  a  cruel  thing  it  is  you  are  doing."  His 
voice  was  very  tender,  but  he  was  perfectly  calm  ; 
there  was  not  the  slightest  vibration  of  passion  in 
the  tones.  Joe  did  not  wholly  understand ;  she 
only  knew  that  he  was  not  satisfied  with  the  first 
explanation  she  had  given  him,  and  that  she  felt 
sorry  for  him,  but  was  incapable  of  changing  her 
decision. 

"  Must  I  go  over  it  all  again  ?  "  she  asked  pite- 

14 


210  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

ously.  "  Did  I  not  make  it  clear  to  you,  Ronald  ? 
Oh  —  don't  talk  about  it !  " 

"  You  have  no  heart,  Joe,"  said  Ronald  hotly. 
"  You  don't  know  what  you  make  me  suffer.  You 
don't  know  that  this  sort  of  thing  is  enough  to 
wreck  a  man's  existence  altogether.  You  don't 
know  what  you  are  doing,  because  you  have  no 
heart  —  not  the  least  bit  of  one." 

"  Do  not  say  that  —  please  do  not,"  Joe  en 
treated,  looking  at  him  with  imploring  eyes,  for 
his  words  hurt  her.  Then  suddenly  the  tears  came 
in  a  quick  hot  gush,  and  she  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands.  "  Oh,  Ronald,  Ronald  —  it  is  you  who  do 
not  know,"  she  sobbed. 

Ronald  did  not  quite  know  what  to  do ;  he  never 
did  when  Joe  cried,  but  fortunately  that  disaster 
had  not  occurred  often  since  he  was  very  small. 
He  was  angry  with  himself  for  having  disturbed 
and  hurt  her,  but  he  did  not  know  what  to  do,  most 
probably  because  he  did  not  really  love  her. 

"  Joe,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  in  some  embar 
rassment,  "  don't !  "  Then  he  rose  and  rather 
timidly  laid  a  hand  on  her  shoulder.  But  she 
shrank  from  him  with  a  petulant  motion,  and  the 
tears  trickled  through  her  small  white  hands  and 
fell  upon  her  dark  dress  and  on  the  "Life  of 
Rufus  Choate." 

"  Joe,  dear  "  —  Ronald  began  again.  And  then, 
in  great  uncertainty  of  mind,  he  went  and  looked 
out  of  the  window.  Presently  he  came  back  and 
stood  before  her  once  more. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  211 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry  I  said  it,  Joe.  Please  for 
give  me.  You  don't  often  cry,  you  know,  and 
so  "  —  He  hesitated. 

Joe  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile  through  her 
tears,  beautiful  as  a  rose  just  wet  with  a  summer 
shower. 

"  And  so  — you  did  not  think  I  could,"  she  said. 
She  dried  her  eyes  quickly  and  rose  to  her  feet. 
"  It  is  very  silly  of  me,  I  know,  but  I  cannot  help 
it  in  the  least,"  said  she,  turning  from  him  in  pre 
tense  of  arranging  the  knickknacks  on  the  mantel. 

"  Of  course  you  cannot  help  it,  Joe,  dear ;  as 
if*  you  had  not  a  perfect  right  to  cry,  if  you  like  ! 
I  am  such  a  brute  —  I  know." 

"  Come  and  look  at  the  snow,"  said  Joe,  taking 
his  hand  and  leading  him  to  the  window.  Enor 
mous  Irishmen  in  pilot  coats,  comforters,  and  india- 
rubber  boots,  armed  with  broad  wooden  spades, 
were  struggling  to  keep  the  drifts  from  the  pave 
ment.  Joe  and  Ronald  stood  and  watched  them 
idly,  absorbed  in  their  own  thoughts. 

Presently  a  booby  sleigh  drawn  by  a  pair  of 
strong  black  horses  floundered  up  the  hill  and 
stopped  at  the  door. 

"  Oh,  Ronald,  there  is  Sybil,  and  she  will  see  I 
have  been  crying.  You  must  amuse  her,  and  I 
will  come  back  in  a  few  minutes."  She  turned  and 
fled,  leaving  Ronald  at  the  window. 

A  footman  sprang  to  the  ground,  and  nearly  lost 
his  footing  in  the  snow  as  he  opened  a  large  um 
brella  and  rang  the  bell.  In  a  moment  Sybil  was 


212  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

out  of  the  sleigh  and  at  the  door  of  the  house  ;  she 
could  not  sit  still  till  it  was  opened,  although  the 
flakes  were  falling  as  thickly  as  ever. 

"  Oh "  —  she  exclaimed,  as  she  entered  the 
room  and  was  met  by  Ronald,  "  I  thought  Joe 
was  here."  There  was  color  in  her  face,  and  she 
took  Ronald's  hand  cordially.  He  blushed  to  the 
eyes,  and  stammered. 

"  Miss  Thorn  is  —  she  —  indeed,  she  will  be 
back  in  a  moment.  How  do  you  do  ?  Dreadful 
weather,  is  not  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  a  snowstorm,"  said  Sybil,  brush 
ing  a  few  flakes  from  her  furs  as  she  came  near 
the  fire.  "  We  do  not  mind  it  at  all  here.  But 
of  course  you  never  have  snow  in  England." 

"  Not  like  this,  certainly,"  said  Ronald.  "  Let 
me  help  you,"  he  added,  as  Sybil  began  to  remove 
her  cloak. 

It  was  a  very  sudden  change  of  company  for 
Ronald;  five  minutes  ago  he  was  trying,  very 
clumsily  and  hopelessly,  to  console  Joe  Thorn  in 
her  tears,  feeling  angry  enough  with  himself  all  the 
while  for  having  caused  them.  Now  he  was  face 
to  face  with  Sybil  Brandon,  the  most  beautiful 
woman  he  remembered  to  have  seen,  and  she 
smiled  at  him  as  he  took  her  heavy  cloak  from  her 
shoulders,  and  the  touch  of  the  fur  sent  a  thrill  to 
his  heart,  and  the  blood  to  his  cheeks. 

"  I  must  say,"  he  remarked,  depositing  the 
things  on  a  sofa,  "  you  are  very  courageous  to  come 
out,  even  though  you  are  used  to  it." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  213 

"  You  have  come  yourself,"  said  Sybil,  laughing 
a  little.  "  You  told  me  last  night  that  you  did  not 
come  here  every  day." 

"  Oh  —  I  told  my  cousin  I  had  come  because  I 
was  so  lonely  at  the  hotel.  It  is  amazingly  dull  to 
sit  all  day  in  a  close  room,  reading  stupid  novels." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be.  Have  you  nothing 
else  to  do  ?  " 

"  Nothing  in  the  wide  world,"  said  Ronald  with 
a  smile.  "  What  should  I  do  here,  in  a  strange 
place,  where  I  know  so  few  people  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  there  is  not  much  for  a  man  to  do, 
unless  he  is  in  business.  Every  one  here  is  in  some 
kind  of  business,  you  know,  so  they  are  never 
bored." 

Ronald  wished  he  could  say  the  right  thing  to  re 
establish  the  half-intimacy  he  had  felt  when  talk 
ing  to  Sybil  the  night  before.  But  it  was  not  easy 
to  get  back  to  the  same  point.  There  was  an  in 
terval  of  hours  between  yesterday  and  to-day  — 
and  there  was  Joe. 

"  I  read  novels  to  pass  the  time,"  he  said,  "  and 
because  they  are  sometimes  so  like  one's  own  life. 
But  when  they  are  not,  they  bore  me." 

Sybil  was  fond  of  reading,  and  she  was  especially 
fond  of  fiction,  not  because  she  cared  for  sensa 
tional  interests,  but  because  she  was  naturally  con 
templative,  and  it  interested  her  to  read  about  the 
human  nature  of  the  present,  rather  than  to  learn 
what  any  individual  historian  thought  of  the 
human  nature  of  the  past. 


214  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  What  kind  of  novels  do  you  like  best  ?  "  she 
asked,  sitting  down  to  pass  the  time  with  Ronald 
until  Josephine  should  make  her  appearance. 

"  I  like  love  stories  best,"  said  Ronald. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Sybil  gravely,  "  so  do  I. 
But  what  kind  do  you  like  best?  The  sad  ones, 
or  those  that  end  well  ?  " 

"  I  like  them  to  end  well,"  said  Ronald,  "  be 
cause  the  best  ones  never  do,  you  know." 

"  Never  ?  "  There  was  something  in  Sybil's 
tone  that  made  Ronald  look  quickly  at  her.  She 
said  the  word  as  though  she,  too,  had  something  to 
regret. 

"Not  in  my  experience,"  answered  Surbiton, 
with  the  decision  of  a  man  past  loving  or  being 
loved. 

"  How  dreadfully  gloomy  !  One  would  think 
you  had  done  with  life,"  Mr.  Surbiton,  said  Sybil, 
laughing. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  so,  Miss  Brandon,"  an 
swered  Ronald  in  solemn  tones. 

"  I  suppose  we  all  think  it  would  be  nice  to  die, 
sometimes.  But  then  the  next  morning  things 
look  so  much  brighter." 

"  I  think  they  often  look  much  brighter  in  the 
evening,"  said  Ronald,  thinking  of  the  night  be 
fore. 

"  I  am  sure  something  disagreeable  has  hap 
pened  to  you  to-day,  Mr.  Surbiton,"  said  Sybil, 
looking  at  him.  Ronald  looked  into  her  eyes  as 
though  to  see  if  there  were  any  sympathy  there. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  216 

"  Yes,  something  disagreeable  has  happened  to 
me,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  Something  very  dis 
agreeable  and  painful." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Sybil  simply.  But  her  voice 
sounded  very  kind  and  comforting. 

"  That  is  why  I  say  that  love  stories  always  end 
badly  in  real  life,"  said  Ronald.  "  But  I  suppose 
I  ought  not  to  complain."  It  was  not  until  he  had 
thought  over  this  speech,  some  minutes  later,  that 
he  realized  that  in  a  few  words  he  had  told  Sybil 
the  main  part  of  his  troubles.  He  never  guessed 
that  she  was  so  far  in  Joe's  confidence  as  to  have 
heard  the  whole  story  before.  But  Sybil  was  silent 
and  thoughtful. 

"  Love  is  such  an  uncertain  thing,"  she  began, 
after  a  pause  ;  and  it  chanced  that  at  that  very 
moment  Joe  opened  the  door  and  entered  the  room. 
She  caught  the  sentence. 

"  So  you  are  instructing  my  cousin,"  she  said  to 
Sybil,  laughing.  "•  I  approve  of  the  way  you  spend 
your  time,  my  children ! "  No  one  would  have 
believed  that,  twenty  minutes  earlier,  Joe  had  been 
in  tears.  She  was  as  fresh  and  as  gay  as  ever,  and 
Ronald  said  to  himself  that  she  most  certainly  had 
no  heart,  but  that  Sybil  had  a  great  deal,  —  he 
was  sure  of  it  from  the  tone  of  her  voice. 

"  What  is  the  news  about  the  election,  Sybil  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  Of  course  you  know  all  about  it  at 
the  Wyndhams'." 

"  My  dear,  the  family  politics  are  in  a  state  of 
confusion  that  is  simply  too  delightful,"  said  Sybil 


216  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  You  know  it  is  said  that  Ira  C.  Calvin  has  re 
fused  to  be  a  candidate,  and  the  Republicans  mean 
to  put  in  Mr.  Jobbins  in  his  place,  who  is  such  a 
popular  man,  and  so  good  and  benevolent  —  quite 
a  philanthropist." 

"  Does  it  make  very  much  difference  ? "  asked 
Joe  anxiously.  "  I  wish  I  understood  all  about  it, 
but  the  local  names  are  so  hard  to  learn." 

"  I  thought  you  had  been  learning  them  all  the 
morning  in  Choate,"  put  in  Ronald,  who  perceived 
that  the  conversation  was  to  be  about  Harrington. 

"  It  does  make  a  difference,"  said  Sybil,  not 
noticing  Ronald's  remark,  "  because  Jobbins  is 
much  more  popular  than  Calvin,  and  they  say  he 
is  a  friend  of  Patrick  Ballymolloy,  who  will  win  the 
election  for  either  side  he  favors." 

"  Who  is  this  Irishman  ?  "  inquired  Ronald. 

"  He  is  the  chief  Irishman,"  said  Sybil  laugh 
ing,  "  and  I  cannot  describe  him  any  better.  He 
has  twenty  votes  with  him,  and  as  things  stand  he 
always  carries  whichever  point  he  favors.  But 
Mr.  Wyndham  says  he  is  glad  he  is  not  in  the 
Legislature,  because  it  would  drive  him  out  of  his 
mind  to  decide  on  which  side  to  vote  —  though  he 
is  a  good  Republican,  you  know." 

"  Of  course  he  could  vote  for  Mr.  Harrington 
in  spite  of  that,"  said  Joe,  confidently.  "  Any 
body  would,  who  knows  him,  I  am  sure.  But  when 
is  the  election  to  come  off  ?  " 

"  They  say  it  is  to  begin  to-day,"  said  Sybil. 

"  We  shall  never  hear  anything  unless  we  go 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  217 

to  Mrs.  Wyndham's,"  said  Joe.  "  Aunt  Zoe  is 
awfully  clever,  and  that,  but  she  never  knows  in 
the  least  what  is  going  on.  She  says  she  does  not 
understand  politics." 

"  If  you  were  a  Bostonian,  Mr.  Surbiton,"  said 
Sybil,  "  you  would  get  into  the  State  House  and 
hear  the  earliest  news." 

"  I  will  do  anything  in  the  world  to  oblige  you," 
said  Ronald  gravely,  "  if  you  will  only  explain  a 
little  "- 

"  Oh  no !  It  is  quite  impossible.  Come  with 
me,  both  of  you,  and  we  will  get  some  lunch  at  the 
Wyndhams'  and  hear  all  about  it  by  telephone." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Joe.  "  One  moment,  while  I 
get  my  things."  She  left  the  room.  Ronald  and 
Sybil  were  again  alone  together. 

"  You  were  saying  when  my  cousin  came  in,  that 
love  was  a  very  uncertain  thing,"  suggested  Ron 
ald,  rather  timidly. 

"  Was  I  ?  "  said  Sybil,  standing  before  the  mir 
ror  above  the  mantelpiece,  and  touching  her  hat 
first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ronald,  watching  her.  "  Do 
you  know,  I  have  often  thought  so  too." 

"Yes?" 

"  I  think  it  would  be  something  different  if  it 
were  quite  certain.  Perhaps  it  would  be  some 
thing  much  less  interesting,  but  much  better." 

"  I  think  you  are  a  little  confused,  Mr.  Sur 
biton,"  said  Sybil,  and  as  she  smiled,  Ronald  could 
see  her  face  reflected  in  the  mirror. 


218  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  I  — yes  —  that  is  —  I  dare  say  I  am,"  said  he, 
hesitatingly.  "  But  I  know  exactly  what  I  mean." 

"  But  do  you  know  exactly  what  you  want  ? " 
she  asked  with  a  laugh. 

"  Yes  indeed,"  said  he  confidently.  "  But  I  do 
not  believe  I  shall  ever  get  it." 

"Then  that  is  the  'disagreeable  and  painful 
thing '  you  referred  to,  as  having  happened  this 
morning,  I  suppose,"  remarked  Sybil,  calmly,  as 
she  turned  to  take  up  her  cloak  which  lay  on  the 
sofa.  Ronald  blushed  scarlet. 

"  Well  —  yes,"  he  said,  forgetting  in  his  embar 
rassment  to  help  her. 

"  It  is  so  heavy,"  said  Sybil.  "  Thanks.  Do 
you  know  that  you  have  been  making  confidences 
to  me,  Mr.  Surbiton  ? "  she  asked,  turning  and 
facing  him,  with  a  half-amused,  half-serious  look 
in  her  blue  eyes. 

"  I  am  afraid  1  have,"  he  answered,  after  a  short 
pause.  "  You  must  think  I  am  very  foolish." 

"  Never  mind,"  she  said  gravely.  "  They  are 
safe  with  me." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Ronald  in  a  low  voice. 

Josephine  entered  the  room,  clad  in  many  furs, 
and  a  few  minutes  later  all  three  were  on  their  way 
to  Mrs.  Wyndham's,  the  big  booby  sleigh  rocking 
and  leaping  and  ploughing  in  the  heavy  dry  snow. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

POCOCK  VANCOUVER  was  also  abroad  in  the 
snowstorm.  He  would  not  in  any  case  have  stayed 
at  home  on  account  of  the  weather,  but  on  this 
particular  morning  he  had  very  urgent  business 
with  a  gentleman  who,  like  Lamb,  rose  with  the 
lark,  though  he  did  not  go  to  bed  with  the  chick 
ens.  There  are  no  larks  in  Boston,  but  the  scream 
of  the  locomotives  answers  nearly  as  well. 

Vancouver  accordingly  had  himself  driven  at  an 
early  hour  to  a  certain  house  not  situated  in  the 
West  End,  but  of  stone  quite  as  brown,  and  hav 
ing  a  bay  window  as  prominent  as  any  sixteen-foot- 
front  on  Beacon  Street ;  those  advantages,  how 
ever,  did  not  prevent  Mr.  Vancouver  from  wearing 
an  expression  of  fastidious  scorn  as  he  mounted 
the  steps  and  pulled  the  polished  German  silver 
handle  of  the  door-bell.  The  curl  on  his  lip  gave 
way  to  a  smile  of  joyous  cordiality  as  he  was  ush 
ered  into  the  presence  of  the  owner  of  the  house. 

"  Indeed,  I  'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Vancouver," 
said  his  host,  whose  extremely  Celtic  appearance 
was  not  belied  by  unctuous  modulation  of  his  voice, 
and  the  pleasant  roll  of  his  softly  aspirated  conso 
nants. 

This  great  man  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Patrick 


220  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

Ballymolloy.  He  received  Vancouver  in  his  study, 
which  was  handsomely  furnished  with  bright  green 
wall-paper,  a  sideboard  on  which  stood  a  number  of 
decanters  and  glasses,  several  leather  easy-chairs, 
and  a  green  china  spittoon. 

In  personal  appearance,  Mr.  Patrick  Ballymolloy 
was  vastly  more  striking  than  attractive.  He  was 
both  corpulent  and  truculent,  and  his  hands  and 
feet  were  of  a  size  and  thickness  calculated  to 
crush  a  paving-stone  at  a  step,  or  to  fell  an  ox  at  a 
blow.  The  nails  of  his  fingers  were  of  a  hue  which 
is  made  artificially  fashionable  in  eastern  countries, 
but  which  excites  prejudice  in  western  civilization 
from  an  undue  display  of  real  estate.  A  neck 
which  the  Minotaur  might  have  justly  envied  sur 
mounted  the  thickness  and  roundness  of  Mr.  Bally- 
tnolloy's  shoulders,  and  supported  a  head  more  re 
markable  for  the  immense  cavity  of  the  mouth,  and 
for  a  quantity  of  highly  pomaded  sandy  hair,  than 
for  any  intellectuality  of  the  brows  01  high-bred 
fineness  of  the  nose.  Mr.  Ballymolloy's  nose  was 
nevertheless  an  astonishing  feature,  and  at  a  dis 
tance  called  vividly  to  mind  the  effect  of  one  of 
those  great  glass  bottles  of  reddened  water,  behind 
which  apothecaries  of  all  degrees  put  a  lamp  at 
dusk  in  order  that  their  light  may  the  better  shine 
in  the  darkness.  It  was  one  of  the  most  surprising 
feats  of  nature's  alchemy  that  a  liquid  so  brown  as 
that  contained  in  the  decanters  on  Patrick's  side 
board  should  be  able  to  produce  and  maintain  any 
thing  so  supernaturally  red  as  Patrick's  nose. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  221 

Mr.  Ballymolloy  was  clad  in  a  beautiful  suit  of 
shiny  black  broadcloth,  and  the  front  of  his  coat 
was  irregularly  but  richly  adorned  with  a  profusion 
of  grease-spots  of  all  sizes.  A  delicate  suggestive 
mezzotint  shaded  the  edges  of  his  collar  and  cuffs, 
and  from  his  heavy  gold  watch-chain  depended  a 
malachite  seal  of  unusual  greenness  and  brilliancy. 

Vancouver  took  the  gigantic  outstretched  hand 
of  his  host  in  his  delicate  fingers,  with  an  air 
of  cordiality  which,  if  not  genuine,  was  very  well 
assumed. 

"  I  'm  glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  said  the  Irishman 
again. 

'^Thanks,"  said  Vancouver,  "  and  I  am  fortunate 
in  finding  you  at  home." 

Mr.  Ballymolloy  smiled,  and  pushed  one  of  his 
leather  easy-chairs  towards  the  fire.  Both  men  sat 
down. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  pretty  busy  over  this  election, 
Mr.  Ballymolloy,"  said  Vancouver,  blandly. 

"  Now,  that 's  just  it,  Mr.  Vancouver,"  replied 
the  Irishman.  "  That 's  just  exactly  what 's  the 
matter  with  me,  for  indeed  I  am  very  busy,  and 
that 's  the  truth." 

"Just  so,  Mr.  Ballymolloy.  Especially  since 
the  change  last  night.  I  remember  what  a  good 
friend  you  have  always  been  to  Mr.  Jobbins." 

"  Well,  as  you  say,  Mr.  Vancouver,  I  have  been 
thinking  that  I  and  Mr.  Jobbins  are  pretty  good 
friends,  and  that 's  just  about  what  it  is,  I  think." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  that  on  more  than  one  occa- 


222  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

sion  you  and  he  have  acted  together  in  the  affairs 
of  the  state,"  said  Vancouver,  thoughtfully. 

"  Ah,  but  it 's  the  sowl  of  him  that  I  like,"  an 
swered  Mr.  Ballymolloy  very  sweetly.  "  He  has 
such  a  beautiful  sowl,  Mr.  Jobbins ;  it  does  me 
good,  and  indeed  it  does,  Mr.  Vancouver." 

"  As  you  say,  sir,  a  man  full  of  broad  human 
sympathies.  Nevertheless  I  feel  sure  that  on  the 
present  occasion  your  political  interests  will  lead 
you  to  follow  the  promptings  of  duty,  and  to  vote 
in  favor  of  the  Democratic  candidate.  I  wish  you 
and  I  did  not  differ  in  politics,  Mr.  Ballymolloy." 

"  And,  indeed,  there  is  not  so  very  much  differ 
ence,  if  it  comes  to  that,  Mr.  Vancouver,"  replied 
Patrick  in  conciliating  tones.  "  But  it 's  just  what 
I  have  been  thinking,  that  I  will  vote  for  Mr.  Har 
rington.  It 's  a  matter  of  principle  with  me,  Mr. 
Vancouver,  and  that 's  it  exactly." 

"  And  where  should  we  all  be  without  principles, 
Mr.  Ballymolloy  ?  Indeed  I  may  say  that  the  im 
portance  of  principles  in  political  matters  is  very 
great." 

"  And  it 's  just  the  greatest  pity  in  the  world 
that  every  one  has  not  principles  like  you,  Mr. 
Vancouver.  I  'm  speaking  the  truth  now."  Ac 
cording  to  Mr.  Patrick  Ballymolloy's  view  of  des 
tiny,  it  was  the  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 
He  knew  Vancouver  of  old,  and  Vancouver  knew 
him. 

"You  flatter  me,  sir,"  said  Pocock,  affecting  a 
pleased  smile.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  there  is  a  little 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  223 

matter  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about,  if  you  can 
spare  me  half  an  hour." 

"  Indeed,  I  'm  most  entirely  delighted  to  be  at 
your  service,  Mr.  Vancouver,  and  I  'm  glad  you 
came  so  early  in  the  morning." 

"  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,  we  are  thinking 
of  making  an  extension  on  one  of  our  lines ;  a 
small  matter,  but  of  importance  to  us." 

"  I  guess  it  must  be  the  branch  of  the  Pocahon- 
tas  and  Dead  Man's  Valley  you  '11  be  speaking  of, 
Mr.  Vancouver,"  said  the  Irishman,  with  sudden 
and  cheerful  interest. 

"«Really,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,  you  are  a  man  of  the 
most  surprising  quickness.  It  is  a  real  pleasure  to 
talk  with  you  on  such  matters.  I  have  no  doubt 
you  understand  the  whole  question  thoroughly." 

"  Well,  it 's  of  no  use  at  all  to  say  I  know  nothing 
about  it,  because  I  have  heard  it  mentioned,  and 
that 's  the  plain  truth,  Mr.  Vancouver.  And  it  will 
take  a  deal  of  rail,  too,  and  that 's  another  thing. 
And  where  do  you  think  of  getting  the  iron  from, 
Mr.  Vancouver  ?  " 

"Well,  I  had  hoped,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,"  said 
Vancouver,  with  some  affected  hesitation,  "  that  as 
an  old  friend,  we  might  be  able  to  manage  matters 
with  you.  But,  of  course,  this  is  entirely  unof 
ficial,  and  between  ourselves." 

Mr.  Ballymolloy  nodded  with  something  very 
like  a  wink  of  one  bloodshot  eye.  He  knew  what 
he  was  about. 

"  And  when  will  you  be  thinking  of  beginning 


224  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

the  work,  Mr.  Vancouver  ?  "  he  inquired,  after  a 
short  pause. 

"  That  is  just  the  question,  or  rather,  perhaps, 
I  should  say  the  difficulty.  We  do  not  expect  to 
begin  work  for  a  year  or  so." 

"  And  surely  that  makes  no  difference,  then,  at 
all,"  returned  Patrick.  "  For  the  longer  the  time, 
the  easier  it  will  be  for  me  to  accommodate  you." 

"  Ah  —  but  you  see,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,  it  may  be 
that  in  a  year's  time  these  new-fangled  ideas  about 
free  trade  may  be  law,  and  it  may  be  much  cheaper 
for  us  to  get  our  rails  from  England,  as  Mr.  Van- 
derbilt  did  three  or  four  years  ago,  when  he  was  in 
such  a  hurry,  you  remember." 

"And,  indeed,  I  remember  it  very  well,  Mr. 
Vancouver." 

"  Just  so.  Now  you  see,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,  I  am 
speaking  to  you  entirely  as  a  friend,  though  I  hope 
I  may  before  long  bring  about  an  official  agree 
ment.  But  you  see  the  difficulty  of  making  a  con 
tract  a  year  ahead,  when  a  party  of  Democratic 
senators  and  Congressmen  may  by  that  time  have 
upset  the  duty  on  steel  rails,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  And  indeed,  I  see  it  as  plain  as  day,  Mr.  Van 
couver.  And  that's  why  I  was  saying  I  wished 
every  one  had  such  principles  as  yourself,  and  I  'm 
telling  you  no  lie  when  I  say  it  again."  Verily 
Mr.  Ballymolloy  was  a  truthful  person  ! 

"  Very  well.  Now,  do  not  you  think,  Mr.  Bal 
lymolloy,  that  all  this  talk  about  free  trade  is  great 
nonsense?" 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  225 

"  And,  surely,  it  will  be  the  ruin  of  the  whole 
country,  Mr.  Vancouver." 

"  Besides,  free  trade  has  nothing  to  do  with 
Democratic  principles,  has  it  ?  You  see  here  am 
I,  the  best  Republican  in  Massachusetts,  and  here 
are  you,  the  best  Democrat  in  the  country,  and  we 
both  agree  in  saying  that  it  is  great  nonsense  to 
leave  iron  unprotected." 

"  Ah,  it 's  the  principle  of  you  I  like,  Mr.  Van 
couver  !  "  exclaimed  Ballymolloy  in  great  admira 
tion.  "  It 's  your  principles  are  beautiful,  just !  " 

"  Very  good,  sir.  Now  of  course  you  are  going 
to  vote  for  Mr.  Harrington  to-day,  or  to-morrow, 
or  whenever  the  election  is  to  be.  Don't  you  think 
you  might  say  something  to  him  that  would  be  of 
some  use  ?  I  believe  he  is  very  uncertain  about 
protection,  you  see.  I  think  you  could  persuade 
him,  somehow." 

"  "Well,  now,  Mr.  Vancouver,  it 's  the  truth 
when  I  tell  you  I  was  just  thinking  of  speaking  to 
him  about  it,  just  a  little,  before  I  went  up  to  the 
State  House.  And  indeed  I  '11  be  going  to  him 
immediately." 

"  I  think  it  is  the  wisest  plan,"  said  Vancouver, 
rising  to  go,  "  and  we  will  speak  about  the  con' 
tract  next  week,  when  all  this  election  business  is 
over." 

"  Ah,  and  indeed,  I  hope  it  will  be  soon,  sir," 

said  Ballymolloy.    "  But  you  '11  not  think  of  going 

out  again  in   the  snow  without  taking  a  drop  of 

something,  will  you,  Mr.  Vancouver  ?  "     He  went 

15 


226  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

to  the  sideboard  and  poured  out  two  stiff  doses  of 
the  amber  liquid. 

"  Since  you  are  so  kind,"  said  Vancouver,  gra 
ciously  taking  the  proffered  glass.  He  knew  better 
than  to  refuse  to  drink  over  a  bargain. 

"  Well,  here  goes,"  he  said. 

"  And  luck  to  yourself,  Mr.  Vancouver,"  said 
Ballymolloy. 

"  I  think  you  can  persuade  him,  somehow,"  said 
Vancouver,  as  his  host  opened  the  street-door  for 
him  to  go  out. 

"  And,  indeed,  I  think  so  too,"  said  Ballymolloy. 
Then  he  went  back  to  his  study  and  poured  out  a 
second  glass  of  whiskey.  "  And  if  I  cannot  per 
suade  him,"  he  continued  in  soliloquy,  "  why,  then, 
it  will  just  be  old  Jobbins  who  will  be  senator,  and 
that 's  the  plain  truth." 

Vancouver  went  away  with  a  light  heart,  and 
the  frank  smile  on  his  delicate  features  was  most 
pleasant  to  see.  He  knew  John  Harrington  well, 
and  he  was  certain  that  Mr.  Ballymolloy's  proposal 
would  rouse  the  honest  wrath  of  the  man  he  de 
tested. 

Half  an  hour  later  Mr.  Ballymolloy  entered 
Harrington's  room  in  Charles  Street.  John  was 
seated  at  the  table,  fully  dressed,  and  writing  let 
ters.  He  offered  his  visitor  a  seat. 

"  So  the  election  is  coming  on  right  away,  Mr. 
Harrington,"  began  Patrick,  making  himself  com 
fortable,  and  lighting  one  of  John's  cigars. 

"  So  I  hear,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,"  answered  John 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  227 

with  a  pleasant  smile.  "  I  hope  I  may  count  on 
you,  in  spite  of  what  you  said  yesterday.  These 
are  the  times  when  men  must  keep  together." 

"  Now  Mr.  Harrington,  you  '11  not  believe  that 
I  could  go  to  the  House  and  vote  against  my  own 
party,  surely,  will  you  now  ?  "  said  Patrick.  But 
there  was  a  tinge  of  irony  in  his  soft  tones.  He 
knew  that  Vancouver  could  make  him  great  and 
advantageous  business  transactions,  and  he  treated 
him  accordingly.  John  Harrington  was,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  mere  candidate  for  his  twenty  votes ; 
he  could  make  John  senator  if  he  chose,  or  defeat 
him,  if  he  preferred  it,  and  he  accordingly  behaved 
to  John  with  an  air  of  benevolent  superiority. 

"  I  trust  you  would  do  no  such  thing,  Mr.  Bally- 
molloy,"  said  John  gravely.  "  Without  advocating 
myself  as  in  any  way  fit  for  the  honors  of  the  Sen 
ate,  I  can  say  that  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance 
that  we  should  have  as  many  Democrats  in  Con 
gress  as  possible,  in  the  Senate  as  well  as  in  the 
House." 

"  Surely  you  don't  think  I  doubt  that,  Mr.  Har 
rington  ?  And  indeed  the  Senate  is  pretty  well 
Democratic  as  it  is." 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  smiling,  "  but  the  more  the 
better,  I  should  think.  It  is  a  very  different  mat 
ter  from  the  local  legislature,  where  changes  may 
often  do  good." 

"  Indeed  and  it  is,  Mr.  Harrington.  And  will 
you  please  to  tell  me  what  you  will  do  about  free 
trade,  when  you  're  in  the  Senate,  sir  ?  " 


228  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  tell  you  anything  that  I 
did  not  tell  you  yesterday,  Mr.  Ballymolloy.  I 
am  a  tariff  reform  man.  It  is  a  great  Democratic 
movement,  and  I  should  be  bound  to  support  it, 
even  if  I  were  not  myself  so  thorough  a  believer 
in  it  as  I  am." 

"  Now  see  here,  Mr.  Harrington,  it 's  the  gospel 
truth  I  'm  telling  you,  when  I  say  you  're  mistaken. 
Here  are  plenty  of  us  Democrats  who  don't  want 
the  least  little  bit  of  free  trade.  I  'm  in  the  iron 
business,  Mr.  Harrington,  and  you  won't  be  after 
thinking  me  such  an  all-powerful  galoot  as  to  cut 
my  own  nose  off,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  exactly,"  said  John,  who  was  used 
to  many  peculiarities  of  language  in  his  visitors. 
"  But,  of  course,  iron  will  be  the  thing  last  on  the 
tariff.  I  am  of  opinion  that  it  is  necessary  to  put 
enough  tax  on  iron  to  protect  home-producers  at 
the  time  of  greatest  depression.  That  is  fair,  is 
not  it  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say  you  may  think  so,  Mr.  Harrington," 
said  Ballymolloy,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  ex- 
gar.  "  But  you  are  not  an  iron  man,  now,  ai  e 
you?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  John.  "  But  I  have  stud 
ied  the  question,  and  I  know  its  importance.  In  a 
reformation  of  the  tariff,  iron  would  be  one  of  the 
things  most  carefully  provided  for." 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  that,"  said  Ballymolloy,  some 
what  roughly,  "  and  there  's  not  much  you  can  tell 
me  about  tariff  reform  that  I  don't  know,  neither. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  229 

And  when  you  have  reformed  other  things,  you  '11 
be  for  reforming  iron,  too,  just  to  keep  your  hands 
in.  And,  indeed,  I  've  no  objection  whatever  to 
your  reforming  everything  you  like,  so  long  as  you 
don't  interfere  with  me  and  mine.  But  I  don't 
trust  the  principles  of  the  thing,  sir ;  I  don't  trust 
them  the  least  little  bit,  and  for  me  I  would  rather 
there  were  not  to  be  any  reforming  at  all,  except 
for  the  Chinamen,  and  I  don't  care  much  for  them, 
neither,  and  that 's  a  fact." 

"  Very  good,  Mr.  Ballymolloy.  Every  man  has 
a  right  to  his  free  opinion.  But  we  stand  on  the 
reform  platform,  for  there  is  no  country  in  the 
world  where  reform  is  more  needed  than  it  is  here. 
I  can  only  repeat  that  the  interests  of  the  iron  trade 
stand  high  with  the  Democratic  party,  and  that  it 
is  highly  improbable  that  any  law  will  interfere 
with  iron  for  many  years.  I  cannot  say  more  than 
that  and  yet  stick  to  facts." 

"  Always  stick  to  facts,  Mr.  Harrington.  You 
will  find  the  truth  a  very  important  thing  indeed, 
and  good  principles  too,  in  dealing  with  plain- 
spoken  men  like  myself,  sir.  Stick  to  the  truth, 
Mr.  Harrington,  forever  and  ever." 

"  I  propose  to,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,"  answered  John, 
internally  amused  at  the  solemn  manner  of  his  in 
terlocutor. 

"  And  then  I  will  put  the  matter  to  you,  Mr. 
Harrington,  and  indeed  it 's  a  plain  matter,  too, 
and  not  the  least  taste  of  dishonesty  in  it,  at  all. 
I  've  been  thinking  I  'd  make  you  senator  if  you  '11 


230  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

agree  to  go  against  free  trade,  and  that 's  just  what 
I  '11  do,  and  no  more." 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  make  such  a  bargain, 
Mr.  Ballymolloy.  After  your  exposition  of  the  im 
portance  of  truth  I  am  surprised  that  you  should 
expect  me  to  belie  my  whole  political  life.  As  I 
have  told  you,  I  am  prepared  to  support  laws  to 
protect  iron  as  much  as  is  necessary.  Free  trade 
nowadays  does  not  mean  cutting  away  all  duties ; 
it  means  a  proper  adjustment  of  them  to  the  re 
quirements  of  our  commerce.  A  proper  adjust 
ment  of  duties  could  not  possibly  be  interpreted  to 
mean  any  injury  to  the  iron  trade.  You  may  rely 
upon  that,  at  all  events." 

"  Oh,  and  I  'rn  sure  I  can,"  said  Ballymolloy  in 
credulously,  and  he  grew,  if  possible,  redder  in  the 
face  than  nature  and  the  action  of  alcohol  had 
made  him.  "  And  I  'm  not  only  sure  of  it,  but  I  '11 
swear  it 's  gospel  truth.  But  then,  you  know,  I  'm 
of  opinion  that  by  the  time  you  'vt,  done  reforming 
the  other  things,  the  reformed  gentlemen  won't  like 
it,  and  then  they  '11  just  turn  round  and  eat  you  up 
unless  you  reform  us  too,  and  that  just  means  the 
ruin  of  us." 

"  Come  now,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,  that  is  exagger 
ation,"  said  John.  "  If  you  will  listen  to  me  for 
a  moment "  — 

"  I  have  n't  got  the  time,  sir,  and  that 's  all  about 
it.  If  you  '11  protect  our  interests  and  promise  to 
do  it,  you  '11  be  senator.  The  election  is  coming 
on,  Mr.  Harrington,  and  I  'd  be  sorry  to  see  you 
thrown  out." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  231 

"Mr.  Ballymolloy,  I  had  sincerely  hoped  that 
you  would  support  me  in  this  matter,  but  I  must 
tell  you  once  more  that  I  think  you  are  unreason 
able.  I  vouch  for  the  sufficient  protection  of  your 
interests,  because  it  is  the  belief  of  our  party  that 
they  need  protection.  But  it  is  not  necessary  for 
you  to  have  an  anti-reform  senator  for  that  pur 
pose,  in  the  first  place ;  and  secondly,  the  offer  of 
a  seat  in  the  Senate  would  never  induce  me  to 
change  my  mind,  nor  to  turn  round  and  deny  every 
thing  that  I  have  said  and  written  on  the  sub 
ject." 

"Then  that  is  your  last  word  of  all,  Mr.  Har- 
fington  ? "  said  Ballymolloy,  heaving  his  heavy 
body  out  of  the  easy-chair.  But  his  voice,  which 
had  sounded  somewhat  irate  during  the  discussion, 
again  rolled  out  in  mellifluous  tones. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,  that  is  all  I  have  to 
say." 

"And  indeed  it's  not  so  very  bad  at  all,"  said 
Patrick.  "You  see  I  just  wanted  to  see  how  far 
you  were  likely  to  go,  because,  though  I  'm  a  good 
Democrat,  sir,  I'm  against  free  trade  in  the  main 
points,  and  that 's  just  the  truth.  But  if  you  say 
you  will  stand  up  for  iron  right  through,  and  use 
your  best  judgment,  why,  I  guess  you  '11  have  to 
be  senator  after  all.  It's  a  great  position,  Mr.  Har 
rington,  and  I  hope  you  '11  do  honor  to  it." 

"I  hope  so,  indeed,"  said  John.  "Can  I  offer 
you  a  glass  of  wine,  or  anything  else,  Mr.  Bally 
molloy?" 


232  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Indeed,  and  it 's  dirty  weather,  too,"  said 
Patrick.  "Thank  you,  I'll  take  a  little  whiskey." 

John  poured  out  a  glass. 

"You  won't  let  me  drink  alone,  Mr.  Harring 
ton?"  inquired  Patrick,  holding  his  tumbler  in  his 
hand.  To  oblige  him,  after  the  manner  of  the 
country,  John  poured  out  a  small  glass  of  sherry, 
and  put  his  lips  to  it.  Ballymolloy  drained  the 
whiskey  to  the  last  drop. 

"You  were  not  really  thinking  I  would  vote  for 
Mr.  Jobbins,  were  you  now,  Mr.  Harrington?"  he 
asked,  with  a  sly  look  on  his  red  face. 

"I  always  hope  that  the  men  of  my  party  are 
to  be  relied  upon,  Mr.  Ballymolloy,"  said  John, 
smiling  politely. 

"Very  well,  they  are  to  be  relied  upon,  sir. 
We  are,  every  man  of  us  to  the  last  drop  of  Chris 
tian  blood  in  our  blessed  bodies,"  said  Patrick, 
with  a  gush  of  patriotic  enthusiasm,  at  the  same 
time  holding  out  his  heavy  hand.  Then  he  took 
his  leave. 

"You  had  better  have  said  'to  the  last  drop  of 
Bourbon  whiskey  in  the  blessed  bottle ! ' "  said 
John  to  himself  when  his  visitor  was  gone.  Then 
he  sat  down  for  a  while  to  think  over  the  situa 
tion. 

"That  man  will  vote  against  me  yet,"  he 
thought. 

He  was  astonished  to  find  himself  nervous  and 
excited  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  With  charac 
teristic  determination  he  went  back  to  his  desk, 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  233 

and  continued  the  letter  which  the  visit  of  the  Irish 
elector  had  interrupted. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Patrick  Ballymolloy  was  driven 
to  the  house  of  the  Republican  candidate,  Mr. 
Jobbing. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

SYBIL  was  right  when  she  said  the  family  poli 
tics  at  the  Wyndhams'  were  disturbed.  Indeed 
the  disturbance  was  so  great  that  Mrs.  Wyndham 
was  dressed  and  down-stairs  before  twelve  o  'clock, 
which  had  never  before  occurred  in  the  memory  of 
the  oldest  servant. 

"  It  is  too  perfectly  exciting,  my  dears, ' '  she  ex 
claimed  as  Joe  and  Sybil  entered  the  room,  fol 
lowed  at  a  respectful  distance  by  Ronald.  "I 
can't  stand  it  one  minute  longer!  How  do  you 
do,  Mr.  Surbiton?" 

"What  is  the  latest  news?"  asked  Sybil. 

"I  have  not  heard  anything  for  ever  so  long. 
Sam  has  gone  round  to  see — perhaps  he  will  be 
back  soon.  I  do  wish  we  had  '  tickers '  here  in  the 
house,  as  they  do  in  New  York,  it  is  such  fun 
watching  when  anything  is  going  on. ' ' 

She  walked  about  the  room  as  she  talked,  touch 
ing  a  book  on  one  table  and  a  photograph  on  an 
other,  in  a  state  of  great  excitement.  Ronald 
watched  her  in  some  surprise;  it  seemed  odd  to 
him  that  any  one  should  take  so  much  interest  in  a 
mere  election.  Joe  and  Sybil,  who  knew  her  bet 
ter,  made  themselves  at  home. 

It  appeared  that  although  Sam  had  gone  to 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  235 

make  inquiries,  it  was  very  improbable  that  any 
thing  would  be  known  until  late  in  the  afternoon. 
There  was  to  be  a  contest  of  some  sort,  but  whether 
it  would  end  in  a  single  day,  or  whether  Ballymol- 
loy  and  his  men  intended  to  prolong  the  struggle 
for  their  own  ends,  remained  to  be  seen. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Wyndham  walked  about  her 
drawing-room  descanting  upon  the  iniquities  of 
political  life,  with  an  animation  that  delighted  Joe 
and  amused  Ronald. 

"Well,  there  is  nothing  for  it,  you  see,"  she  said 
at  last.  "Sam  evidently  does  not  mean  to  come 
home,  and  you  must  just  stay  here  and  have  some 
funch  until  he  does." 

The  three  agreed,  nothing  loath  to  enjoying  one 
another's  company.  There  is  nothing  like  a  day 
spent  together  in  waiting  for  an  event,  to  bring  out 
the  characteristics  of  individuals.  Mrs.  Wynd 
ham  fretted  and  talked,  and  fretted  again.  Joe 
grew  silent,  pale,  and  anxious  as  the  morning 
passed,  while  Sybil  and  Ronald  seemed  to  enjoy 
themselves  extremely  and  talked  without  ceasing. 
Outside  the  snow  fell  thick  and  fast  as  ever,  and 
the  drifts  rose  higher  and  higher. 

"I  do  wish  Sam  would  come  back,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Wyndham  at  last,  as  she  threw  herself  into 
an  easy-chair,  and  looked  at  the  clock. 

But  Sam  did  not  come,  nevertheless,  and  Joe 
sat  quietly  by  the  fire,  wishing  she  were  alone,  and 
yet  unwilling  to  leave  the  house  where  she  hoped 
to  have  the  earliest  information. 


236  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

The  two  who  seemed  rapidly  growing  indifferent 
to  the  issue  of  the  election  were  Sybil  and  Ronald, 
who  sat  together  with  a  huge  portfolio  of  photo 
graphs  and  sketches  between  them,  laughing  and 
talking  pleasantly  enough.  Joe  did  not  hear  a 
word  of  their  conversation,  and  Mrs.  Wyndham 
paid  little  attention  to  it,  though  her  practiced  ears 
could  have  heard  it  all  if  need  be,  while  she  her 
self  was  profoundly  occupied  with  some  one  else. 

The  four  had  a  somewhat  dreary  meal  together, 
and  Ronald  was  told  to  go  into  Sam's  study  and 
smoke  if  he  liked,  while  Mrs.  Wyndham  led  Joe 
and  Sybil  away  to  look  at  a  quantity  of  new  things 
that  had  just  come  from  Paris.  Ronald  did  as  he 
was  bid  and  settled  himself  for  an  hour,  with  a 
plentiful  supply  of  newspapers  and  railroad  litera 
ture. 

It  was  past  three  o'clock  when  Sam  Wyndham 
entered  the  room,  his  face  wet  with  the  snowflakes 
and  red  with  excitement. 

"  Hollo  !  "  he  exclaimed,  seeing  Ronald  comfort 
ably  ensconced  in  his  favorite  easy-chair.  "  How 
are  you  ?  " 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Ronald,  rising  quickly. 
"They  told  me  to  come  in  here  after  lunch,  and  so 
I  was  waiting  until  I  was  sent  for,  or  told  to  come 
out." 

"  Very  glad  to  see  you,  any  way,"  said  Sam  cor 
dially.  "  Well,  I  have  been  to  hear  about  an  elec 
tion —  a  friend  of  ours  got  put  up  for  senator. 
But  I  don't  expect  that  interests  you  much?" 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  237 

' '  On  the  contrary, ' '  said  Ronald,  ' '  I  have  heard 
it  so  much  talked  of  that  I  am  as  much  interested 
as  anybody.  Is  it  all  over  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  yes,  and  a  pretty  queer  business  it  was. 
Well,  our  friend  is  not  elected,  anyway" — 

"Has  Mr.  Harrington  .been  defeated?"  asked 
Ronald  quickly. 

"It's  my  belief  he  has  been  sold,"  said  Sam. 
' '  But  as  I  am  a  Republican  myself  and  a  friend  of 
Jobbins,  more  or  less,  I  don't  suppose  I  feel  so 
very  bad  about  it,  after  all.  But  I  don't  know 
how  my  wife  will  take  it,  I'm  sure,"  said  Sam 
presently.  "I  expect  we  had  better  go  and  tell 
Jaer,  right  off." 

"Then  he  has  really  lost  the  election?"  in 
quired  Ronald,  who  was  not  altogether  sorry  to 
hear  it. 

"Why,  yes — as  I  say,  Jobbins  is  senator  now. 
I  should  not  wonder  if  Harrington  were  a  good 
deal  cut  up.  Come  along  with  me,  now,  and  we 
will  tell  the  ladies." 

The  three  ladies  were  in  the  drawing-room. 
Mrs.  Wyndham  and  Joe  sprang  to  their  feet  as 
Sam  and  Ronald  entered,  but  Sybil  remained 
seated  and  merely  looked  up  inquiringly. 

' '  Oh  now,  Sam, ' '  cried  Mrs.  Wyndham,  in  great 
excitement,  "tell  us  all  about  it  right  away.  We 
are  dying  to  know ! ' ' 

Joe  came  close  to  Mrs.  Wyndham,  her  face  very 
pale  and  her  teeth  clenched  in  her  great  anxiety. 
Sam  threw  back  the  lapels  of  his  coat,  put  his 


238  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  broad  waistcoat,  and 
turned  his  head  slightly  on  one  side. 

"  Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "  John  's  wiped  out." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  he  has  lost  the  election  ?  " 
cried  Mrs.  Wyndham. 

"  Yes  —  he  's  lost  it.     Jobbins  is  senator." 

"  Sam,  you  are  perfectly  horrid !  "  exclaimed  his 
spouse,  in  deepest  vexation. 

Josephine  Thorn  spoke  no  word,  but  turned 
away  and  went  alone  to  the  window.  She  was 
deathly  pale,  and  she  trembled  from  head  to  foot 
as  she  clutched  the  heavy  curtain  with  her  small 
white  fingers. 

"  Poor  Mr.  Harrington  ! ''  said  Sybil  thought 
fully.  "  I  am  dreadfully  sorry." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyndham  and  Ronald  moved 
toward  the  fire  where  Sybil  was  sitting.  No  one 
spoke  for  a  few  seconds.  At  last  Mrs.  Wyndham 
broke  out: 

"  Sam,  it 's  a  perfect  shame  !  "  she  said.  "  I 
think  all  those  people  ou^ht  to  be  locked  up  for 
bribery.  I  am  certain  it  was  all  done  by  some 
horrid  stealing,  or  something,  now,  was  not  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  my  dear,"  said  Sam 
reflectively.  "You  see  they  generally  vote  fair 
enough  in  these  things.  Well,  may  be  that  fellow 
Ballymolloy  has  made  something  out  of  it.  He  's 
a  pretty  bad  sort  of  a  scamp,  any  way,  I  expect. 
Sorry  you  are  so  put  out  about  it,  but  Jobbins  is 
not  so  very  bad,  after  all." 

Sybil  suddenly  missed  Joe  from  the  group,  and 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  239 

looked  across  to  where  she  stood  by  the  window. 
A  glance  told  her  that  something  was  wrong,  and 
she  rose  from  her  seat  and  went  to  her  friend. 
The  sight  of  Josephine's  pale  face  frightened  her. 

"  Joe,  dear,"  she  said  affectionately,  "  you  are 
ill  —  come  to  my  room."  Sybil  put  one  arm  round 
her  waist  and  quietly  led  her  away.  Ronald  had 
watched  the  little  scene  from  a  distance,  but  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Wyndham  continued  to  discuss  the  re 
sult  of  the  election. 

"  It  is  exactly  like  you,  Sam,  to  be  talking  in 
that  way,  instead  of  telling  me  just  how  it  hap 
pened,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham.  "  And  then  to  say 
it  is  not  so  very  bad  after  all !  " 

"  Oh,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  right  away,  my 
dear,  if  you  '11  only  give  me  a  little  time.  You  're 
always  in  such  an  immense  fever  about  everything 
that  it 's  perfectly  impossible  to  get  along." 

"  Are  you  going  to  begin  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Wynd 
ham,  half  vexed  with  her  husband's  deliberate  in 
difference. 

"  Well,  as  near  as  I  can  make  out  it  was  gener 
ally  thought  at  the  start  that  John  had  a  pretty 
good  show.  The  Senate  elected  him  right  away 
by  a  majority  of  four,  which  was  so  much  to  the 
good,  for  of  course  his  friends  reckoned  on  getting 
him  in,  if  the  Senate  had  n't  elected  him,  by  the 
bigger  majority  of  the  House  swamping  the  Senate 
in  the  General  Court.  But  it 's  gone  just  the  other 
way/' 

"  Whatever  is  the  General  Court  ?  "  asked  Ron 
ald*  much  puzzled. 


240  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Oh,  the  General  Court  is  when  the  House  and 
the  Senate  meet  together  next  day  to  formally  de 
clare  a  senator  elected,  if  they  have  both  chosen 
the  same  man,  or  to  elect  one  by  a  general  majority 
if  they  have  n't." 

"  Yes,  that  is  it,"  added  Mrs.  Wyndham  to  Ron 
ald,  and  then  addressing  her  husband,  "  Do  go  on, 
Sam  ;  you  Ve  not  told  us  anything  yet." 

"  Well,  as  I  said,  the  Senate  elected  John  Har 
rington  by  a  majority  of  four.  The  House  took 
a  long  time  getting  to  work,  and  then  there  was 
some  mistake  about  the  first  vote,  so  they  had  to 
take  a  second.  And  when  that  was  done  Jobbing 
actually  had  a  majority  of  eighteen.  So  John  's 
beaten,  and  Jobbins  will  be  senator  anyhow,  and 
you  must  just  make  the  best  you  can  out  of  it." 

"  But  I  thought  you  said  when  the  House  and 
the  Senate  did  not  agree,  the  General  Court  met 
next  day  and  elected  a  senator?"  asked  Ronald 
again ;  "  and  in  that  case  Mr.  Harrington  is  not 
really  beaten  yet." 

"  Well,  theoretically  he 's  not,"  said  Sam,  "  be 
cause  of  course  Jobbins  is  not  actually  senator  un 
til  he  has  been  elected  by  the  General  Court,  but 
the  majority  for  him  in  the  House  was  so  surpris 
ingly  large,  and  the  majority  for  John  so  small  in 
the  Senate,  and  the  House  is  so  much  larger  than 
the  Senate,  that  the  vote  to-morrow  is  a  dead  sure 
thing,  and  Jobbins  is  just  as  much  senator  as  if  he 
were  sitting  in  Washington." 

M I  suppose  you  will  expect  me  to  have  Mr.  Job- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  241 

bins  to  dinner,  now.     I  think  the  whole  business 
is  perfectly  mean  ! " 

"Don't  blame  me,  my  dear,"  said  Sam  calmly. 
"I  did  not  create  the  Massachusetts  Legislature, 
and  I  did  not  found  the  State  House,  nor  discover 
America,  nor  any  of  these  things.  And  after  all, 
Jobbins  is  a  very  respectable  man  and  belongs  to 
our  own  party,  while  Harrington  does  not.  When 
I  set  up  creating  I  '11  make  a  note  of  one  or  two 
points,  and  I  '11  see  that  John  is  properly  attended 
to." 

"You  need  not  be  silly,  Sam,"  said  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham.  "What  has  become  of  those  girls  ?" 
*  "They  went  out  of  the  room  some  time  ago," 
said  Ronald,  who  had  been  listening  with  much 
amusement  to  the  description  of  the  election.  He 
was  never  quite  sure  whether  people  could  be  seri 
ous  when  they  talked  such  peculiar  language,  and 
he  observed  with  surprise  that  Mr.  and  Mrs 
Wyndham  talked  to  each  other  in  phrases  very 
different  from  those  they  used  in  addressing  him 
self. 

Sybil  had  led  Joe  away  to  her  room.  She  did 
not  guess  the  cause  of  Joe's  faintness,  but  supposed 
it  to  be  a  momentary  indisposition,  amenable  to  the 
effects  of  eau-de-cologne.  She  made  her  lie  upon 
the  great  cretonne  sofa,  moistening  her  forehead, 
and  giving  her  a  bottle  of  salts  to  smell. 

But  Joe,  who  had  never  been  ill  in  her  life,  re 
covered  her  strength  in  a  few  minutes,  and  regain 
ing  her  feet  began  to  walk  about  the  room. 
16 


242  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  What  do  you  think  it  was,  Joe,  dear  ?  w  asked 
Sybil,  watching  her. 

"  Oh,  it  was  nothing.  Perhaps  the  room  was 
hot,  and  I  was  tired." 

"  I  thought  you  looked  tired  all  the  morning," 
said  Sybil,  "and  just  when  I  looked  at  you  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  faint.  You  were  as 
pale  as  death,  and  you  seemed  holding  yourself  up 
by  the  curtains." 

"Did  I?"  said  Joe,  trying  to  laugh.  "How 
silly  of  me !  I  felt  faint  for  a  moment  —  that  was 
all.  I  think  I  will  go  home." 

"  Yes,  dear  —  but  stay  a  few  minutes  longer  and 
rest  yourself.  I  will  order  a  carriage  —  it  is  still 
snowing  hard."  Sybil  left  the  room. 

Once  alone,  Joe  threw  herself  upon  the  sofa 
again.  She  would  rather  have  died  than  have  told 
any  one,  even  Sybil  Brandon,  that  it  was  no  sick 
ness  she  felt,  but  only  a  great  and  overwhelming 
disappointment  for  the  man  she  loved. 

Her  love  was  doubly  hers  —  her  very  own  —  in 
that  it  was  fast  locked  in  her  own  heart,  beyond 
the  reach  of  any  human  being  to  know.  Of  ail 
that  came  and  went  about  her,  and  flattered  her, 
and  strove  for  her  graces,  not  one  suspected  that 
she  loved  a  man  in  their  very  midst,  passionately, 
fervently,  with  all  the  strength  she  had.  Ronald's 
suspicions  were  too  vague,  and  too  much  the  result 
of  a  preconceived  idea,  to  represent  anything  like 
a  certainty  to  himself,  and  he  had  not  mentioned 
them  to  her. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  243 

If  anything  can  determine  the  passion  of  love  in 
a  woman,  it  is  the  great  flood  of  sympathy  that 
overflows  her  heart  when  the  man  she  loves  is  hurt, 
or  overcome  in  a  great  cause.  When,  for  a  little 
moment,  that  which  she  thinks  strongest  and  brav 
est  and  most  manly  is  struck  down  and  wounded 
and  brought  low,  her  love  rises  up  and  is  strong 
within  her,  and  makes  her  more  noble  in  the  devo 
tion  of  perfect  gentleness  than  a  man  can  ever  be. 

"  Oh,  if  only  he  could  have  won  ! "  Joe  said 
again  and  again  to  herself.  "  If  only  he  could 
have  won,  I  would  have  given  anything  !  " 

Sybil  came  back  in  a  few  moments,  and  saw  Joe 
tying  down,  still  white  and  apparently  far  from 
well.  She  knelt  upon  the  floor  by  her  side  and 
taking  her  hands,  looked  affectionately  into  her 
face. 

"  There  is  something  the  matter,"  she  said.  "  I 
know  —  you  cannot  deceive  me  —  there  is  some 
thing  serious  the  matter.  Will  you  tell  me,  Joe  ? 
Can  I  do  anything  at  all  to  help  you?"  Joe 
smiled  faintly,  grateful  for  the  sympathy  and  for 
the  gentle  words  of  her  friend. 

"  No,  Sybil  dear.  It  is  nothing  —  there  is  noth 
ing  you  can  do.  Thanks,  dearest  —  I  shall  be 
very  well  in  a  little  while.  It  is  nothing,  really. 
Is  the  carriage  there  ?  " 

A  few  minutes  later,  Joe  and  Ronald  were  again 
at  Miss  Schenectady's  house.  Joe  recovered  her 
self-control  on  the  way,  and  asked  Ronald  to  come 
in,  an  invitation  which  he  cheerfully  accepted. 


244  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

John  Harrington  had  spent  the  day  in  a  state  of 
anxiety  which  was  new  to  him.  Enthusiastic  by 
nature,  he  was  calm  by  habit,  and  he  was  surprised 
to  find  his  hand  unsteady  and  his  brain  not  capa 
ble  of  the  intense  application  he  could  usually 
command.  Ten  minutes  after  the  results  of  the 
election  were  known  at  the  State  House,  he  re 
ceived  a  note  from  a  friend  informing  him  with 
expressions  of  hearty  sympathy  how  the  day  had 
gone. 

The  strong  physical  sense  of  pain  which  accom 
panies  all  great  disappointments,  took  hold  of  him, 
and  he  fell  back  in  his  seat  and  closed  his  eyes,  his 
teeth  set  and  his  face  pale  with  the  suffering,  while 
his  broad  hands  convulsively  grasped  the  heavy 
oaken  arms  of  his  chair. 

It  may  be  that  this  same  bodily  agony,  which  is 
of  itself  but  the  gross  reflection  in  our  material 
selves  of  what  the  soul  is  bearing,  is  a  wholesome 
provision  that  draws  our  finer  senses  away  from 
looking  at  what  might  blind  them  altogether. 
There  are  times  when  a  man  would  go  mad  if  his 
mind  were  not  detached  from  its  sorrow  by  the 
quick,  sharp  beating  of  his  bodily  heart,  and  by 
the  keen  torture  of  the  physical  body,  that  is  like 
the  thrusting  of  a  red-hot  knife  between  breast 
bone  and  midriff. 

The  expression  "  self-control "  is  daily  in  the  bla 
tant  mouths  of  preachers  and  moralists,  the  very 
cant  of  emptiness  and  folly.  It  means  nothing, 
nor  can  any  play  of  words  or  cunning  twisting  of 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  245 

conception  ever  give  it  meaning.  For  the  "  self  " 
is  the  divine,  imperishable  portion  of  the  eternal 
God  which  is  in  man.  I  may  control  my  limbs 
and  the  strength  that  is  in  them,  and  I  may  force 
under  the  appetites  and  passions  of  this  mortal 
body,  but  I  cannot  myself,  for  it  is  myself  that 
controls,  being  of  nature  godlike  and  stronger  than 
all  which  is  material.  And  although,  for  an  in 
finitely  brief  space  of  time,  I  myself  may  in 
habit  and  give  life  to  this  handful  of  most  change 
able  atoms,  I  have  it  in  my  supreme  power  and 
choice  to  make  them  act  according  to  my  pleasure. 
If  I  become  enamored  of  the  body  and  its  ways, 
and  of  the  subtleties  of  a  fleeting  bodily  intelli 
gence,  I  have  forgotten  to  control  those  things  ; 
and  having  forgotten  that  I  have  free  will  given 
me  from  heaven  to  rule  what  is  mine,  I  am  no 
longer  a  man,  but  a  beast.  But  while  I,  who  am 
an  immortal  soul,  command  the  perishable  engine 
in  which  I  dwell,  I  am  in  truth  a  man.  For  the 
soul  is  of  God  and  forever,  whereas  the  body  is  a 
thing  of  to-day  that  vanishes  into  dust  to-morrow ; 
but  the  two  together  are  the  living  man.  And 
thus  it  is  that  God  is  made  man  in  us  every  day. 

All  that  which  we  know  by  our  senses  is  but  an 
illusion.  What  is  true  of  its  own  nature,  we  can 
neither  see,  nor  hear,  nor  feel,  nor  taste.  It  is  a 
matter  of  time,  and  nothing  more,  and  whatever 
palpable  thing  a  man  can  name  will  inevitably  be 
dissolved  into  its  constituent  parts,  that  these  may 
again  agglomerate  into  a  new  illusion  for  future 


246  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

ages.  But  that  which  is  subject  to  no  change,  nor 
disintegration,  nor  reconstruction,  is  the  immortal 
truth,  to  attain  to  a  knowledge  and  understanding 
of  which  is  to  be  saved  from  the  endless  shifting 
of  the  material  and  illusory  universe. 

John  Harrington  lay  in  his  chair  alone  in  his 
rooms,  while  the  snow  whirled  against  the  windows 
outside  and  made  little  drifts  on  the  sills.  The 
fire  had  gone  out  and  the  bitter  storm  beat  against 
the  casements  and  howled  in  the  chimney,  and  the 
dusk  of  the  night  began  to  mingle  with  the  thick 
white  flakes,  and  brought  upon  the  solitary  man  a 
great  gloom  and  horror  of  loneliness.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  his  life  was  done,  and  his  strength 
gone  from  him.  He  had  labored  in  vain  for  years, 
for  this  end,  and  he  had  failed  to  attain  it.  It 
were  better  to  have  died  than  to  suffer  the  igno 
miny  of  this  defeat.  It  were  better  never  to  have 
lived  at  all  than  to  have  lived  so  utterly  in  vain. 
One  by  one  the  struggles  of  the  past  came  up  to 
him ;  each  had  seemed  a  triumph  when  he  was  in 
the  glory  of  strength  and  hope.  The  splendid 
aims  of  a  higher  and  nobler  government,  built  by 
sheer  truth  and  nobility  of  purpose  upon  the  ashes 
and  dust  of  present  corruption,  the  magnificent 
purity  of  the  ideal  State  of  which  he  had  loved  to 
dream  —  all  that  he  had  thought  of  and  striven 
after  as  most  worthy  of  a  true  man  to  follow, 
dwindled  now  away  into  a  hollow  and  mocking 
image,  more  false  than  hollowness  itself,  poorer 
and  of  less  substance  than  a  juggler's  show. 


AN  AM  EMC  AX  POLITICIAN.  247 

He  clasped  his  hands  over  his  forehead,  and 
tried  to  think,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  Everything 
was  vague,  broken,  crushed,  and  shapeless.  Faces 
seemed  to  rise  to  his  disturbed  sight,  and  he  won 
dered  whether  he  had  ever  known  these  people  ;  a 
ghastly  weariness  as  of  death  was  upon  him,  and 
his  arms  fell  heavily  by  his  sides.  He  groaned 
aloud,  and  if  in  that  bitter  sigh  he  could  have 
breathed  away  his  existence  he  would  have  gladly 
done  it. 

Some  one  entered  the  room,  struck  a  match,  and 
lit  the  gas.  It  was  his  servant,  or  rather  the  joint 
servant  of  two  or  three  of  the  bachelors  who  lived 
4n  the  house,  a  huge,  smooth-faced  colored  man. 

"  Oh,  excuthe  me,  Mister  Harrington,  I  thought 
you  wath  out,  Thir.  There 's  two  o'  them  notes 
for  you." 

John  roused  himself,  and  took  the  letters  with 
out  a  word.  They  were  both  addressed  in  femi 
nine  handwriting.  The  one  he  knew,  for  it  was 
from  Mrs.  Wyndham.  The  other  he  did  not  rec 
ognize.  He  opened  Mrs.  Wyndham's  first. 

"  DEAR  MR.  HARRINGTON,  —  Sam  and  I  are 
very  much  put  out  about  it,  and  sympathize  most 
cordially.  We  think  you  might  like  to  come  and 
dine  this  evening,  if  you  have  no  other  invitation, 
so  I  write  to  say  we  will  be  all  alone  and  very  glad 
to  see  you.  Cordially  yours, 

JANE  WYNDHAM. 

"•  P.  S.     Don't  trouble  about  the  answer." 


248  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

John  read  the  note  through  and  laid  it  on  the 
table.  Then  he  turned  the  other  missive  over  in 
his  fingers,  and  finally  tore  open  the  envelope. 

It  ran  as  follows :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  HARRINGTON,  —  Please  don' 
be  surprised  at  my  writing  to  you  in  this  way.  1 
was  at  Mrs.  Wyndham's  this  afternoon  and  heard 
all  about  it,  and  1  must  write  to  tell  you  that  I  am 
very,  very  sorry.  It  is  too  horrible  to  think  how 
bad  and  wicked  and  foolish  people  are,  and  how 
they  invariably  do  the  wrong  thing.  I  cannot  tell 
you  how  sorry  we  all  are,  because  it  is  just  such 
men  as  you  who  are  most  needed  nowadays,  though 
of  course  I  know  nothing  about  politics  here.  But 
I  am  quite  sure  that  all  of  them  will  live  to  regret 
it,  and  that  you  will  win  in  the  end.  Don't  think 
it  foolish  of  me  to  write,  because  I'm  so  angry 
that  I  can't  in  the  least  help  it,  and  I  think  every 
body  ought  to.  Yours  in  sincerity, 

"JOSEPHINE  THORN." 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

JOHN  read  Joe's  note  many  times  over  before  he 
quite  realized  what  it  contained.  It  seemed  at  first 
a  singular  thing  that  she  should  have  written  to 
him,  and  he  did  not  understand  it.  He  knew  her 
as  an  enthusiastic  and  capricious  girl  who  had  some 
times  laughed  at  him,  and  sometimes  treated  him 
coldly  ;  but  who,  again,  had  sometimes  talked  with 
kim  as  though  he  were  an  old  friend.  He  called 
to  mind  the  interest  she  had  taken  in  his  doings  of 
late,  and  how  she  had  denounced  Vancouver  as  his 
enemy,  and  he  thought  of  the  long  conversation  he 
had  had  with  her  on  the  ice  under  the  cold  moon 
light.  He  thought  of  many  a  sympathetic  glance 
she  had  given  when  he  spoke  of  his  aims  and  in 
tentions,  of  many  a  gentle  word  spoken  in  praise 
of  him,  and  which  at  the  time  he  had  taken  merely 
as  so  much  small,  good-natured  flattery,  such  as 
agreeable  people  deal  out  to  each  other  in  society 
without  any  thought  of  evil  nor  any  especial  mean 
ing  of  good.  All  these  things  came  back  to  him, 
and  he  read  the  little  note  again.  It  was  a  kindly 
word,  nothing  more,  penned  by  a  wild,  good- 
hearted  girl,  in  the  scorn  of  consequence  or  social 
propriety.  It  was  nothing  but  that. 

And  yet,  there  was  something  more  in  it  all  — 


250  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

something  not  expressed  in  the  abbreviated  words 
and  hurriedly-composed  sentences,  but  something 
that  seemed  to  struggle  for  expression.  John's  ex 
perience  of  womankind  was  limited,  for  he  was  no 
lady's  man,  and  had  led  a  life  singularly  lacking  in 
woman's  love  or  sentiment,  though  singularly  de 
pendent  on  the  friendship  of  some  woman.  Never 
theless  he  knew  that  Joe's  note  breathed  the  essence 
of  a  sympathy  wider  than  that  of  mere  every-day 
acquaintance,  and  deeper,  perhaps,  than  that  of  any 
friendship  he  had  known.  He  could  not  have  ex 
plained  the  feeling,  nor  reasoned  upon  it,  but  he 
knew  well  enough  that  when  he  next  met  Joe  it 
would  be  on  new  terms.  She  had  declared  herself 
his  friend  in  a  way  no  longer  mistakable,  for  she 
must  have  followed  her  first  impulse  in  writing  such 
a  note,  and  the  impulse  must  have  been  a  strong 
one. 

For  a  while  he  debated  whether  to  answer  the 
note  or  not,  almost  forgetting  his  troubles  in  the 
tumult  of  new  thoughts  it  had  suggested  to  him. 
A  note,  thought  he,  required  an  answer,  on  general 
principles  —  but  such  a  note  as  this  would  be  better 
answered  in  person  than  by  any  pen  and  paper. 
He  would  call  and  see  Joe,  and  thank  her  for  it. 
But,  again,  he  knew  he  could  not  see  her  until  the 
next  day,  and  that  seemed  a  long  time  to  wait.  It 
would  not  have  been  long  under  ordinary  circum 
stances,  but  in  this  case  it  seemed  to  him  an  unrea 
sonable  delay.  He  sat  down  and  took  a  pen  in  his 
fingers. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  251 

"Dear  Miss  Thorn" — he  began,  and  stopped. 
In  America  it  is  more  formal  to  begin  without 
the  preliminary  "my;"  in  England  the  "my"  is 
indispensable,  unless  people  are  on  familiar  terms. 
John  knew  this,  and  reflected  that  Joe  was  Eng 
lish.  While  he  was  reflecting  his  eye  fell  upon  a 
heap  of  telegraph  blanks,  and  he  remembered 
that  he  had  not  given  notice  of  his  defeat  to  the 
council.  He  pushed  aside  the  note  paper  and  took 
a  form  for  a  cable  dispatch.  In  a  moment  Joe  was 
forgotten  in  the  sudden  shock  that  brought  his 
thoughts  back  to  his  position.  He  wrote  out  a 
simple  message  addressed  to  Z,  who  was  the  only 
one  of  the  three  whom  he  officially  knew. 

But  when  he  had  done  that,  he  fell  to  thinking 
about  Joe  again,  and  resolved  to  write  the  note. 

"My  DEAR  Miss  THORN — I  cannot  allow  your 
very  friendly  words  to  remain  unanswered  until 
to-morrow.  It  is  kind  of  you  to  be  sorry  for  the  de 
feat  I  have  suffered,  it  is  kinder  still  to  express  your 
sympathy  so  directly  and  so  soon.  Concerning  the 
circumstances  which  brought  the  contest  to  such  a 
result,  I  have  nothing  to  say.  It  is  the  privilege 
of  elective  bodies  to  choose  as  they  please,  and  in 
deed,  that  is  the  object  of  their  existence.  No  one 
has  any  right  to  complain  of  not  being  elected,  for 
a  man  who  is  a  candidate  knows  from  the  first  what 
he  is  undertaking,  and  what  manner  of  men  he  has 
to  deal  with.  Personally,  I  am  a  man  who  has 
fought  a  fight  and  has  lost  it,  and  however  firmly  I 


252  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

still  believe  in  the  cause  which  led  me  to  the  strug 
gle,  I  confess  that  I  am  disappointed  and  disheart 
ened  at  being  vanquished.  You  are  good  enough 
to  say  you  believe  I  shall  win  in  the  end ;  I  can 
only  answer  that  I  thank  you  very  heartily  indeed 
for  saying  so,  though  I  do  not  think  it  is  likely  that 
any  efforts  of  mine  will  be  attended  with  success 
for  a  long  time. 

"  Believe  me,  with  great  gratitude, 
"  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"JOHN  HARRINGTON." 

It  was  a  longer  note  than  he  had  meant  to  write, 
in  fact  it  was  almost  a  letter  ;  but  he  read  it  over 
and  was  convinced  he  had  said  what  he  meant  to 
say,  which  was  always  the  principal  consideration 
in  such  matters.  Accordingly  the  missive  was 
dispatched  to  its  destination.  As  for  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham,  John  determined  to  accept  her  invitation,  and 
to  answer  it  in  person  by  appearing  at  the  dinner- 
hour.  He  would  not  let  any  one  think  he  was  so 
broken-hearted  as  to  be  unable  to  show  himself. 
He  was  too  strong  for  that,  and  he  had  too  much 
pride  in  his  strength. 

He  was  right  in  going  to  Mrs.  Wyndham's,  for 
she  and  her  husband  were  his  oldest  friends,  and  he 
understood  well  enough  what  true  hearts  and  what 
honest  loyalty  lie  sometimes  concealed  in  the  bosoms 
of  those  brisk,  peculiar  people,  who  seem  unable  to 
speak  seriously  for  long  about  the  most  serious  sub 
jects,  and  whose  quaint  turns  of  language  seem 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  253 

often  so  unfit  to  express  any  deep  feeling.  But 
while  he  talked  with  his  hosts  his  own  thoughts 
strayed  again  and  again  to  Joe,  and  he  wondered 
what  kind  of  woman  she  really  was.  He  intended 
to  visit  her  the  next  day. 

The  next  day  came,  however,  and  yet  John  did 
not  turn  his  steps  up  the  hill  towards  Miss  Schenec- 
tady's  house.  It  was  a  cloudless  morning  after  the 
heavy  storm,  and  the  great  drifts  of  snow  flashed 
like  heaps  of  diamonds  in  the  sun.  All  the  air 
was  clear  and  cold,  and  the  red  brick  pavements 
were  spotted  here  and  there  with  white  patches 
left  from  the  shovels  of  the  Irishmen.  Sleighs  of 
all  sizes  were  ploughing  their  way  hither  and 
thither,  breaking  out  a  track  in  the  heavy  mass 
that  encumbered  the  streets.  Every  one  was 
wrapped  in  furs,  and  every  one's  face  was  red  with 
the  smarting  cold. 

Joe  stayed  at  home  until  mid-day,  when  she 
went  to  a  luncheon-party  of  young  girls.  As  usual, 
they  had  been  sewing  for  the  poor,  but  Joe  thought 
that  she  was  not  depriving  the  poor  people  of  any 
very  material  assistance  by  staying  away  from 
the  more  industrious  part  of  the  entertainment. 
The  sewing  they  all  did  together  in  a  morning  did 
not  produce  results  whereby  even  the  very  smallest 
baby  could  have  been  clothed,  and  the  part  effected 
by  each  separate  damsel  in  this  whole  was  conse 
quently  somewhat  insignificant.  Joe  would  have 
stayed  at  home  outright  had  the  weather  not  been 
so  magnificent,  and  possibly  she  thought  that  she 


254  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

might  meet  John  Harrington  on  her  way  to  the 
house  of  her  friend  in  Dartmouth  Street. 

Fate,  however,  was  against  her,  for  she  had  not 
walked  thirty  yards  down  the  hill  before  she  was 
overtaken  by  Pocock  Vancouver.  He  had  been 
standing  in  one  of  the  semi-circular  bay  windows 
of  the  Somerset  Club,  and  seeing  Joe  coming 
down  the  steep  incline,  had  hurriedly  taken  his 
coat  and  hat  and  gone  out  in  pursuit  of  her.  Had 
he  suspected  in  the  least  how  Joe  felt  toward  him, 
he  would  have  fled  to  the  end  of  the  world  rather 
than  meet  her. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Thorn,"  he  said,  walking 
rapidly  by  her  side  and  taking  off  his  hat,  "how 
very  early  you  are  to-day." 

"It  is  not  early,"  said  Joe,  looking  at  him  coldly, 
"  it  is  nearly  one  o'clock." 

"It  would  be  called  early  for  most  people,"  said 
Vancouver;  "for  Mrs.  Wyndham,  for  instance." 

"I  am  not  Mrs.  Wyndham,"  said  Joe. 

"I  am  going  to  see  Harrington,"  remarked  Van 
couver,  who  perceived  that  Joe  was  not  in  a  good 
humor.  "I  am  afraid  he  must  be  dreadfully  cut 
up  about  this  business." 

"  So  you  are  going  to  condole  with  him  ?  I  do 
not  believe  he  is  in  the  least  disturbed.  He  has 
far  too  much  sense." 

"I  fancy  the  most  sensible  man  in  the  world 
would  be  a  trifle  annoyed  at  being  defeated  in  an 
election,  Miss  Thorn,"  said  Vancouver  blandly. 
"I  am  afraid  you  are  not  very  sorry  for  him.  He 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  255 

is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  and  though  I  differ  from 
him  in  politics,  very  passively,  I  cannot  do  less 
than  go  and  see  him,  and  tell  him  how  much  I 
regret,  personally,  that  he  should  be  defeated." 

Joe's  lip  curled  in  scorn,  and  she  flushed  angrily. 
She  could  have  struck  Vancouver's  pale  face  with 
infinite  pleasure  and  satisfaction,  but  she  said 
nothing  in  immediate  answer. 

"  Do  you  not  think  I  am  right  ?  "  asked  Van 
couver.  "  I  am  sure  you  do ;  you  have  such  a 
good  heart."  They  passed  Charles  Street  as  he 
was  speaking,  and  yet  he  gave  no  sign  of  leaving 
her. 

*  "  I  am  not  sure  that  I  have  a  good  heart,  and  I 
am  quite  sure  that  you  are  utterly  wrong,  Mr. 
Vancouver,"  said  Joe,  in  calm  tones. 

"  Really  ?  Why,  you  quite  surprise  me,  Miss 
Thorn.  Any  man  in  my  place  ought  "  — 

"  Most  men  in  your  place  would  avoid  Mr.  Har 
rington,"  interrupted  Joe,  turning  her  clear  brown 
eyes  full  upon  him.  Had  she  been  less  angry  she 
would  have  been  more  cautious.  But  her  blood 
was  up,  and  she  took  no  thought,  but  said  what 
she  meant,  boldly. 

"Indeed,  Miss  Thorn,"  said  Vancouver,  stiffly, 
"  I  do  not  understand  you  in  the  least.  I  think 
what  you  say  is  very  extraordinary.  John  Har 
rington  has  always  been  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  That  may  be,  Mr.  Vancouver,  but  you  are  cer 
tainly  no  friend  of  his,"  said  Joe,  with  a  scornful 
laugK. 


256  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"You  astonish  me  beyond  measure,"  rejoined 
Pocock,  maintaining  his  air  of  injured  virtue,  al 
though  he  inwardly  felt  that  he  was  in  some  im 
minent  danger.  "  How  can  you  possibly  say  such 
a  thing?" 

Joe  could  bear  it  no  longer.  She  was  very  im 
prudent,  but  her  honest  anger  boiled  over.  She 
stopped  in  her  walk,  her  back  against  the  iron 
railings,  and  she  faced  Vancouver  with  a  look  that 
frightened  him.  He  was  forced  to  stop  also,  and 
he  could  not  do  less  than  return  her  glance. 

"Do  you  dare  to  stand  there  and  tell  me  that 
you  are  Mr.  Harrington's  friend?"  she  asked  in 
low  distinct  tones.  "You,  the  writer  of  articles  in 
the  'Daily  Standard,'  calling  him  a  fool  and  a 
charlatan  ?  You,  who  have  done  your  very  best  to 
defeat  him  in  this  election  ?  Indeed,  it  is  too  ab 
surd  ! "  She  laughed  aloud  in  utter  scorn,  and 
then  turned  to  continue  her  way. 

Vancouver  turned  a  shade  paler  than  was  natural 
with  him,  and  looked  down.  He  was  very  much 
frightened,  for  he  was  a  coward. 

"Miss  Thorn,"  he  said,  "I  am  sorry  you  should 
believe  such  calumnies.  I  give  you  my  word  of 
honor  that  I  have  never  either  written  or  spoken 
against  Mr.  Harrington.  He  is  one  of  my  best 
friends." 

Joe  did  not  answer;  she  did  not  even  look  at 
him,  but  walked  on  in  silence.  He  did  not  dare  to 
speak  again,  and  as  they  reached  the  corner  of  the 
Public  Garden  he  lifted  his  hat. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  257 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  you  will  find  you  have 
misjudged  me, Miss  Thorn,"  he  said, with  a  grieved 
look.  "In  the  meanwhile  I  wish  you  a  very  good 
morning. ' ' 

"Good-morning,"  said  Joe,  without  looking  at 
him;  and  she  passed  on,  full  of  indignation  and 
wrath. 

To  tell  the  truth,  she  was  so  much  delighted  at 
having  spoken  her  mind  for  once,  that  she  had  not 
a  thought  of  any  possible  consequences.  The  de 
light  of  having  dealt  Vancouver  such  a  buffet  was 
very  great,  and  she  felt  her  heart  beat  fast  with  a 
triumphant  pleasure. 

*But  Vancouver  turned  and  went  away  with  a 
very  unpleasant  sensation  in  him.  He  wished  with 
all  his  might  that  he  had  not  left  the  comfortable 
bay  window  of  the  Somerset  Club  that  morning, 
and  more  than  all  he  wished  he  could  ascertain  how 
Joe  had  come  to  know  of  his  journalistic  doings. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  what  she  had  said  concerning 
Pocock's  efforts  against  John  in  the  election  had 
been  meant  in  a  most  general  way.  But  Van 
couver  thought  she  was  referring  to  his  interview 
with  Ballymolloy,  and  that  she  understood  the 
whole  matter.  Of  course,  there  was  nothing  to  be 
done  but  to  deny  the  accusations  from  beginning 
to  end ;  but  they  nevertheless  had  struck  deep,  and 
he  was  thoroughly  alarmed.  When  he  left  the 
club  he  had  had  no  intention  of  going  to  see  Har 
rington  ;  the  idea  had  formed  itself  while  talking 
with  her.  But  now,  again,  he  felt  that  he  could 


258  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

not  go.  He  had  not  the  courage  to  face  the  man 
he  had  injured,  principally  because  he  strongly 
suspected  that  if  Joe  knew  what  he  had  done, 
John  Harrington  most  likely  knew  it  too. 

He  was  doubly  hit.  He  would  have  been  less 
completely  confused  and  frightened  if  the  attack 
had  come  from  Sybil  Brandon  ;  but  he  had  had 
vague  ideas  of  trying  to  marry  Joe,  and  he  guessed 
that  any  such  plan  was  now  hopelessly  out  of  the 
question.  He  turned  his  steps  homeward,  uncer 
tain  what  to  do,  and  hoping  to  find  counsel  in  sol 
itude. 

He  took  up  the  letters  and  papers  that  lay  on 
his  study  table,  brought  by  the  mid-day  post.  One 
letter  in  particular  attracted  his  attention,  and  he 
singled  it  out  and  opened  it.  It  was  dated  from 
London,  and  had  been  twelve  days  on  its  way. 

"  MY  DEAR  VANCOUVER, 

"  Enclosed  please  find  Bank  of  England  Post 
Note  for  your  usual  quarterly  honorarium,  <£1250. 
My  firm  will  address  you  upon  the  use  to  be  made 
of  the  Proxies  lately  sent  you  for  the  ensuing  elec 
tion  of  officers  of  the  Pocahontas  and  Dead  Man's 
Valley  R.  R.,  touching  your  possession  of  which  I 
beg  to  reiterate  the  importance  of  a  more  than 
masonic  discretion.  I  apprehend  that  unless  the 
scattered  shares  should  have  been  quickly  absorbed 
for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  a  majority,  these 
Proxies  will  enable  you  to  control  the  election  of 
the  proper  ticket.  If  not,  and  if  the  Leviathan 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  259 

should  decline  the  overtures  that  will  be  made  to 
him  during  his  summer  visit  to  London,  I  should 
like  your  estimate  of  five  thousand  shares  more,  to 
be  picked  up  in  the  next  three  months,  which  will 
assure  our  friends  the  control.  Should  the  pro 
spective  figure  be  too  high,  we  may  elect  to  sell  out, 
after  rigging  the  market  for  a  boom. 

"  In  either  event  there  will  be  lots  of  pickings  in 
the  rise  and  fall  of  the  shares  for  the  old  joint  ac 
count,  which  has  been  so  profitable   because  you 
have  so  skillfully  covered  up  your  tracks. 
"  Yours  faithfully, 

"SAUNDERS  GRABBLES." 

* 

"P.  S.     The    expectations    of  the  young   lady 

about  whom  you  inquire  are  involved  in  such  a  tan 
gle  of  conditions  as  could  only  have  occurred  to  the 
excited  fancy  of  an  old  Anglo-Indian.  He  left 
about  twenty  lacs  of  rupees  in  various  bonds  —  G. 
I.  P.  and  others  —  to  his  nephew,  Ronald  Surbi- 
ton,  and  to  his  niece  jointly,  provided  that  they 
marry  each  other.  If  they  do  not,  one  quarter  of 
the  estate  is  to  go  to  the  one  who  marries  first,  and 
the  remaining  three  quarters  to  the  other.  The  es 
tate  is  in  the  hands  of  trustees,  who  pay  an  allow 
ance  to  the  heirs.  In  case  they  marry  each  other, 
the  said  heirs  have  power  to  dispose  by  will  of  the 
inheritance.  Otherwise  the  whole  of  it  reverts  to 
the  last  survivor,  and  at  his  or  her  death  it  is  to  be 
devoted  to  founding  a  home  for  superannuated  gov 
ernesses." 


260  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

Vancouver  read  the  letter  through  with  care,  and 
held  it  a  moment  in  his  hand.  Then  he  crushed  it 
angrily  together  and  tossed  it  into  the  fire.  It 
seemed  as  though  everything  went  wrong  with  him 
to-day.  Not  only  was  no  information  concerning 
Joe  of  any  use  now.  It  would  be  a  hard  thing  to 
disabuse  her  of  the  idea  that  he  had  written  those 
articles.  After  all,  though,  as  he  thought  the  mat 
ter  over,  it  could  be  only  guess-work.  The  manu 
scripts  had  always  gone  through  the  post,  signed 
with  a  feigned  name,  and  it  was  utterly  impossible 
that  the  editor  himself  could  know  who  had  written 
them.  It  would  be  still  more  impossible,  therefore, 
for  any  one  else  to  do  more  than  make  a  guess.  It 
is  easy  to  deny  any  statement,  however  correct, 
when  founded  on  such  a  basis.  But  there  was  t;he 
other  thing :  Joe  had  accused  him  of  having  opposed 
John's  election  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  No  one 
could  prove  that  either.  He  had  even  advised 
Ballymolloy  to  vote  for  John,  in  so  many  words. 
On  the  whole,  his  conscience  was  clear  enough. 
Vancouver's  conscience  was  represented  by  all  those 
things  which  could  by  any  possibility  be  found  out ; 
the  things  that  no  one  could  ever  know  gave  him 
no  anxiety.  In  the  present  case  the  first  thing  to 
be  done  was  plainly  to  put  the  whole  blame  of  the 
articles  on  the  shoulders  of  some  one  else,  a  person 
of  violent  political  views  and  very  great  vanity, 
who  would  be  greatly  flattered  at  being  thought 
the  author  of  anything  so  clever.  That  would  not 
be  a  difficult  task.  He  would  broach  the  subject 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  261 

to  Mrs.  Wyndham,  telling  her  that  the  man,  who 
ever  he  should  be,  had  told  him  in  strictest  confi 
dence  that  he  was  the  writer.  Vancouver  would 
of  course  tell  it  to  Mrs.  Wyndham  as  a  state  se 
cret,  and  she  would  tell  some  one  else — it  would 
soon  be  public  property,  and  Joe  would  hear  of  it. 
It  would  be  easy  enough  to  pitch  upon  some  indi 
vidual  who  would  not  deny  the  imputation,  or  who 
would  deny  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  the  impres 
sion  on  the  public  mind  unchanged,  more  especially 
as  the  articles  had  accomplished  the  desired  result. 

The  prime  cause  of  all  this,  John  Harrington 
himself,  sat  in  his  room,  unconscious,  for  the  time, 
t)f  Vancouver's  existence.  He  was  in  a  state  of 
great  depression  and  uncertainty,  for  he  had  not 
yet  rallied  from  the  blow  of  the  defeat.  Moreover 
he  was  thinking  of  Joe,  and  her  letter  lay  open  on 
the  table  beside  him.  His  whole  heart  went  out 
to  her  in  thanks  for  her  ready  sympathy,  and  he 
had  almost  made  up  his  mind  to  go  and  see  her, 
as  he  had  at  first  determined  to  do. 

He  would  have  laughed  very  heartily  at  the  idea 
of  being  in  love,  for  he  had  never  thought  of  him 
self  in  such  a  position.  But  he  realized  that  he 
was  fond  of  Josephine  Thorn,  that  he  was  thinking 
of  her  a  great  deal,  and  that  the  thought  was  a 
comfort  to  him  in  his  distress.  He  knew  very  well 
that  he  would  find  a  great  rest  and  refreshment  in 
talking  to  her  at  present,  and  yet  he  could  not  de 
cide  to  go  to  her.  John  was  a  man  of  calm  man 
ner  and  with  plenty  of  hard,  practical  sense,  in 


262  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

spite  of  the  great  enthusiasm  that  burned  like  a  fire 
within  him,  and  that  was  the  mainspring  of  his  ex 
istence.  But  like  all  orators  and  men  much  accus 
tomed  to  dealing  with  the  passions  of  others,  he  was 
full  of  quick  intuitions  and  instincts  which  rarely 
betrayed  him.  Something  warned  him  not  to  seek 
her  society,  and  though  he  said  to  himself  that  he 
was  very  far  from  beinp'  in  love,  the  thought  that 
he  might  some  day  find  that  he  wished  to  marry 
her  presented  itself  continually  to  his  mind ;  and 
since  John  had  elected  to  devote  himself  to  celibacy 
and  politics,  there  was  nothing  more  repugnant  to 
his  whole  life  than  the  id°a  of  marriage. 

At  this  juncture,  while  he  was  revolving  in  his 
mind  what  was  best  to  be  done,  a  telegram  was 
brought  to  him.  It  was  from  Z,  and  in  briefest 
terms  of  authority  commanded  John  to  hold  him 
self  ready  to  start  for  London  at  a  moment's  no 
tice.  It  must  have  been  dispatched  within  a  few 
hours  after  receiving  his  own  message  of  the  night 
before,  and  considering  the  difference  of  time,  must 
have  been  sent  from  London  early  in  the  after 
noon.  It  was  clearly  an  urgent  case,  and  the  su 
preme  three  had  work  for  John  to  do,  even  though 
he  had  not  been  made  senator. 

The  order  was  a  great  relief.  It  solved  all  his 
uncertainty  and  scattered  all  his  doubts  to  the 
wind.  It  gave  him  new  courage  and  stimulated 
his  curiosity.  Z  had  only  sent  for  him  twice  be 
fore,  and  then  only  to  call  him  from  Boston  or 
New  York  to  Washington.  It  was  clear  that 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  263 

something  of  very  great  importance  was  likely  to 
occur.  His  energy  returned  in  full,  with  the  an 
ticipation  of  work  to  do  and  of  a  journey  to  be 
made,  and  before  night  he  was  fully  prepared  to 
leave  on  receipt  of  his  orders.  His  box  was  packed, 
and  he  had  drawn  the  money  necessary  to  take  him 
to  London. 

As  for  Joe,  he  could  go  and  see  her  now  if  he 
pleased.  In  twenty-four  hours  he  might  be  gone, 
never  to  see  her  again.  But  it  was  too  late  on  that 
day  —  he  would  go  on  the  following  morning. 

It  was  still  the  height  of  the  Boston  season,  which 
is  short,  but  merry  while  it  lasts.  John  had  a  din- 
rter-party,  a  musical  evening,  and  a  ball  on  his  list 
for  the  evening,  and  he  resolved  that  he  would  go 
to  all  three,  and  show  himself  bravely  to  the  world. 
He  was  full  of  new  courage  and  strength  since  he 
had  received  Z's  message,  and  he  was  determined 
that  no  one  should  know  what  he  had  suffered. 

The  dinner  passed  pleasantly  enough,  and  by 
ten  o'clock  he  was  at  the  musical  party.  There  he 
found  the  Wyndhams  and  many  other  friends,  but 
he  looked  in  vain  for  Joe  ;  she  was  not  there.  Be 
fore  midnight  he  was  at  th«  dance,  pushing  his  way 
through  crowds  of  acquaintances,  stumbling  over 
loving  couples  ensconced  on  the  landings  of  the 
stairs,  and  running  against  forlorn  old  ladies,  whose 
mouths  were  full  of  ice-cream  and  their  hearts  of 
bitterness  against  the  younger  generation ;  and  so, 
at  last,  he  reached  the  ball-room,  where  everything 
that  was  youngest  and  most  fresh  was  assembled, 


264  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

swaying  and  gliding,  and  backing  and  turning  in 
the  easy,  graceful  half-walk,  half-slide  of  the  Bos 
ton  step. 

As  John  stood  looking  on,  Joe  passed  him,  leav 
ing  the  room  on  Mr.  Topeka's  arm.  There  was  a 
little  open  space  before  her  in  the  crowd,  and  Po- 
cock  Vancouver  darted  out  with  the  evident  inten 
tion  of  speaking  to  her.  But  as  she  caught  sight 
of  him  she  turned  suddenly  away,  pulling  Mr. 
Topeka  round  by  his  arm.  It  was  an  extremely 
"  marked  thing  to  do."  As  she  turned  she  unex 
pectedly  came  face  to  face  with  John,  who  had 
watched  the  manoeuvre.  The  color  came  quickly 
to  her  face,  and  she  was  slightly  embarrassed ; 
nevertheless  she  held  out  her  hand  and  greeted 
John  cordially. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

"  I  AM  so  glad  to  have  found  you, ' '  said  John  to 
Josephine,  when  the  latter  had  disposed  of  Mr. 
Topeka.  They  had  chosen  a  quiet  corner  in  a 
dimly-lighted  room  away  from  the  dancers.  ' '  But 
I  suppose  it  is  useless  to  ask  you  for  a  dance  ? ' ' 

' '  No, ' '  said  Joe,  looking  at  her  card ;  "  I  always 
leave  two  dances  free  in  the  middle  of  the  evening 
in  case  I  am  tired.  We  will  sit  them  out. ' ' 
4  "Thank  you,"  said  John,  looking  at  her.  She 
looked  pale  and  a  little  tired,  but  wonderfully 
lovely.  "Thank  you,"  he  repeated,  "and  thank 
you  also  for  your  most  kind  note. ' ' 

' '  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  better  how  very  sorry 
I  am,"  said  Joe,  impulsively.  "It  is  bad  enough 
to  look  on  and  see  such  things  done,  but  I  should 
think  you  must  be  nearly  distracted. ' ' 

"I  think  I  was  at  first,"  said  John,  simply. 
"But  one  soon  grows  used  to  it.  Man  is  a  vain 
animal,  and  I  suppose  no  one  could  lose  a  fight  as 
I  have  without  being  disappointed." 

"If  you  were  not  disappointed  it  would  be  a 
sign  you  did  not  really  care,"  answered  Joe. 
"And  of  course  you  must  care — a  great,  great 
deal.  It  is  a  loss  to  your  cause,  as  well  as  a  loss 
to  yourself.  But  you  cannot  possibly  give  it  up; 
you  will  win  next  time. ' ' 


266  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  "  I  hope  I  shall  win  some  day." 
But  his  voice  sounded  uncertain ;  it  lacked  that  de 
termined  ring  that  Joe  loved  so  well.  She  felt 
as  she  sat  beside  him  that  he  was  deeply  hurt  and 
needed  fresh  encouragement  and  strength  to  restore 
him  to  his  old  self.  She  longed  to  help  him  and 
to  rouse  him  once  more  to  the  consciousness  of 
power  and  the  hope  of  victory. 

"  It  is  my  experience,"  said  she  with  an  air  of 
superiority  that  would  have  been  amusing  if  she 
had  spoken  less  earnestly  —  "  it  is  my  experience 
that  one  should  never  think  of  anything  in  which 
one  has  come  to  grief.  I  know,  when  one  is  going 
at  a  big  thing  —  a  double  post  and  rails  with  a 
ditch,  or  anything  like  that,  you  know  —  it  would 
never  do  to  remember  that  you  have  come  off  at 
the  same  thing  or  at  something  else  before.  When 
a  man  is  always  remembering  his  last  tumble  he 
has  lost  his  nerve,  and  had  better  give  up  hunting 
altogether.  Thinking  that  you  may  get  an  ugly 
fall  will  not  help  you  over  anything." 

"  No,"  said  John,  "  that  is  very  true." 

"  You  must  forget  all  about  it  and  begin  again. 
You  have  missed  one  bird,  but  you  are  a  good  shot, 
and  you  will  not  miss  the  next." 

"  You  are  a  most  encouraging  person,  Miss 
Thorn,"  said  John  with  a  faint  smile.  "  But  you 
know  the  only  test  of  a  good  shot  is  that  one  hits 
the  mark.  I  have  missed  at  the  first  trial,  and 
that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  miss  at  the 
second,  too.' 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN,  267 

"  You  are  disappointed  and  unhappy  now,"  said 
Joe,  gently.  "  It  is  very  natural  indeed.  Any 
body  would  feel  like  that.  But  you  must  not  be 
lieve  in  yourself  any  less  than  your  friends  believe 
in  you." 

"  I  fancy  my  friends  do  not  all  think  alike,"  an 
swered  John.  "  But  I  am  grateful  to  you  for  what 
you  say." 

He  was  indeed  grateful,  and  the  soothing  sound 
of  her  gentle  voice  was  the  best  refreshment  for 
his  troubled  spirit.  He  thought  for  a  moment  how 
brave  a  man  could  be  with  such  a  woman  by  his 
side ;  and  the  ^bought  pleased  him,  the  more  be 
cause  he  knew  that  it  could  not  be  realized.  They 
sat  in  silence  for  a  while,  contented  to  be  together, 
and  in  sympathy.  But  before  long  the  anxiety  for 
the  future  and  the  sense  of  his  peculiar  position 
came  over  John  again. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  there  are  times  when 
I  regret  it  all  very  much  ?  I  never  told  any  one  so 
before  —  perhaps  I  was  never  so  sure  of  it  as  I 
have  been  since  this  affair." 

"  What  is  it  that  you  regret  so  much  ?  "  asked 
Joe,  softly.  "  It  is  a  noble  life." 

"  It  is,  indeed,  if  only  a  man  knows  how  to  live 
it,"  answered  John.  "  But  sometimes  I  think  I  do 
not.  You  once  said  a  very  true  thing  to  me  about 
it  all.  Do  you  remember  ?  " 

"No;  what  was  it?" 

"  You  said  I  should  not  succeed  because  I  am 
not  enough  of  a  partisan,  and  because  every  one  is 
a  partisan  here." 


268  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Did  I  ?  Yes,  I  remember  saying  it,"  answered 
Joe,  secretly  pleased  that  he  should  not  have  for 
gotten  it.  "  I  do  not  think  it  is  so  very  true,  after 
all.  It  is  true  to-day ;  but  it  is  for  men  like  you 
to  set  things  right,  to  make  partisanship  a  thing 
of  the  past.  Men  ought  to  make  laws  because 
they  are  just  and  necessary,  not  in  order  that  they 
may  profit  by  them  at  the  expense  of  the  rest  of 
the  world.  And  to  have  such  good  laws  men  ought 
to  choose  good  men  to  represent  them." 

"  There  is  no  denying  the  truth  of  that,"  said 
John.  "  That  is  the  way  to  construct  the  ideal  re 
public.  It  would  be  the  way  to  do  a  great  many 
ideal  things.  You  need  only  persuade  humanity 
to  do  right,  and  humanity  will  do  it.  Verily,  it  is 
an  easy  task  !  "  He  laughed,  a  little  bitterly. 

"  It  is  not  like  you  to  laugh  in  that  way,"  said 
Joe,  gravely. 

"  No ;  to  tell  the  truth,  I  am  not  overmuch  in 
clined  to  laugh  at  anything  to-day,  excepting  my 
self,  and  I  dare  say  there  are  plenty  of  people  who 
will  do  that  for  me  without  the  asking.  They  will 
have  no  chance  when  I  am  gone." 

Joe  started  slightly. 

"  Gone  ?  "  she  repeated.   "  Are  you  going  away  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  likely,"  said  John.  "  A  friend  of 
mine  has  warned  me  to  be  ready  to  start  at  a  mo 
ment's  notice  on  very  important  business." 

"  But  it  is  uncertain,  then  ?  "  asked  Joe,  quickly. 
She  had  turned  very  white  in  an  instant,  and  she 
looked  straight  across  the  little  room  and  pulled 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  269 

nervously  at  her  fan.  She  would  not  have  dared 
to  let  her  eyes  meet  John's  at  that  moment. 

"Yes,  rather  uncertain,"  answered  John.  "But 
he  would  not  have  sent  me  such  a  warning  unless 
it  were  very  likely  that  he  would  really  want  me." 

Joe  was  silent ;  she  could  not  speak. 

"So  you  see,"  continued  Harrington,  "I  may 
leave  to-morrow,  and  I  cannot  tell  when  I  may 
come  back.  That  is  the  reason  I  was  glad  to  find 
you  here.  I  would  have  called  to-day,  if  it  had 
been  possible,  after  I  got  the  message."  He  spoke 
calmly,  not  dreaming  of  the  storm  of  fear  and  pas 
sion  he  was  rousing  in  the  heart  of  the  fair  girl 
*beside  him. 

"Where  —  where  are  you  going?"  asked  Joe 
in  a  low  voice. 

"Probably  to  England,"  said  John. 

Before  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth  he 
turned  and  looked  at  her,  suddenly  realizing  the 
change  in  her  tones.  But  she  had  turned  away 
from  him.  He  could  see  the  quiver  of  her  lips 
and  the  beating  throb  of  her  beautiful  throat ;  and 
as  he  watched  the  outline  of  her  cheek  a  tear  stole 
slowly  over  the  delicate  skin,  and  trembled,  and  fell 
upon  her  white  neck.  But  still  she  looked  away. 

Ah,  John  Harrington,  what  have  you  done  ? 
You  have  taken  the  most  precious  and  pure  thing 
in  this  world,  the  thing  men  as  brave  as  you  have 
given  their  heart's  best  blood  to  win  and  have  per 
ished  for  failing,  the  thing  which  angels  guard  and 
Heaven  has  in  its  keeping  —  the  love  of  a  good 


270  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

and  noble  woman.  It  has  come  into  your  hands 
and  you  do  not  want  it.  You  hardly  know  it  is 
yours ;  and  if  you  fully  knew  it  you  would  not 
know  what  to  do ! 

You  are  innocent,  indeed  ;  you  have  done  noth 
ing,  spoken  no  word,  given  no  look  that,  in  your 
opinion,  your  cold  indifferent  opinion,  could  attract 
a  woman's  love.  But  the  harm  is  done,  neverthe 
less,  and  a  great  harm  too.  When  you  are  old 
and  sensible  you  will  look  back  to  this  day  as  one 
of  sorrow  and  evil,  and  you  will  know  then  that 
all  greatness  and  power  and  glory  of  realized  am 
bition  are  nothing  unless  a  man  have  a  woman's 
love.  You  will  know  that  a  man  who  cannot  love 
is  blind  to  half  the  world  he  seeks  to  conquer,  and 
that  a  man  who  cannot  love  truly  is  no  true  man, 
for  he  who  is  not  true  to  one  cannot  be  true  to 
many.  That  is  the  sum  and  reckoning  of  what 
love  is  worth. 

But  John  knew  of  nothing  beyond  friendship, 
and  he  could  not  conceive  how  friendship  could 
turn  into  anything  else.  When  he  saw  the  tear 
on  Josephine  Thorn's  cheek  he  was  greatly  dis 
turbed,  and  vaguely  wondered  what  in  the  world 
he  should  do.  The  idea  that  any  woman  could 
care  enough  for  him  to  shed  a  tear  when  he  left 
her  had  never  crossed  his  mind ;  even  now,  with 
the  actual  fact  before  his  eyes,  he  doubted  whether 
it  were  possible.  She  was  ill,  perhaps,  and  suffer 
ing  pain.  Pshaw !  it  was  absurd,  it  could  not  be 
that  she  cared  so  much  for  him. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  271 

Seeing  she  did  not  move,  he  sat  quite  still  for  a 
while.  His  usual  tact  had  deserted  him  in  the 
extremity  of  the  situation.  He  revolved  in  his 
mind  what  was  best  to  say.  It  was  safest  to  sup 
pose  that  Joe  was  ill,  but  he  would  say  something 
indifferent,  in  order  to  see  whether  she  recov 
ered,  before  he  suggested  that  he  might  be  of  as 
sistance. 

"  It  is  cold  here,"  he  remarked,  trying  to  speak 
as  naturally  as  possible.  "  Would  you  not  like  to 
take  a  turn,  Miss  Thorn  ?  " 

Joe  moved  a  little.  She  was  deadly  pale,  and  in 
the  effort  she  had  made  to  control  her  feelings  she 
&as  unconscious  of  the  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh  no,  thanks,"  she  faltered,  "  I  will  not  dance 
just  now."  She  could  not  say  more. 

John  made  up  his  mind. 

"  You  are  ill,  Miss  Thorn,"  he  said  anxiously. 
"  I  am  sure  you  are  very  far  from  well.  Let  me 
get  you  something,  or  call  your  aunt.  Shall  I  ?  " 

"  Oh  no  —  don't  —  that  is  —  please,  I  think  so. 
I  will  go  home." 

John  rose  quickly,  but  before  he  reached  the 
door  she  called  him  back. 

"  Mr.  Harrington,  it  is  nothing.  Please  sit 
down." 

John  came  back  and  did  as  he  was  bid,  more 
and  more  surprised  and  confused. 

"  I  was  afraid  it  was  something  serious,"  he  said 
nervously,  for  he  was  greatly  disturbed. 

Joe  laughed,  a  bitter,  harsh  little  laugh,  that 


272  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

was  bad  to  hear.  She  was  making  a  great  effort, 
but  she  was  strong,  and  bravely  forced  back  her 
bursting  tears. 

"  Oh  no !  I  was  only  choking,"  she  said.  "  I 
often  do.  Go  on,  please,  with  what  you  were  say-* 
ing.  Why  are  you  going  away  so  suddenly  ?  " 

"  Indeed,"  answered  John,  "  I  do  not  know  what 
the  business  is.  I  am  going  if  I  am  required,  sim 
ply  because  my  friend  wants  me." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  asked  Joe,  speaking 
more  calmly,  "  that  you  will  pack  up  your  belong 
ings  and  go  to  the  end  of  the  world  whenever  a 
friend  asks  you  to?  It  is  most  tremendously 
obliging,  you  know." 

"  Not  for  any  friend,"  John  replied.  "  But  I 
would  most  certainly  do  it  for  this  particular  one." 

"You  must  be  very  fond  of  him  to  do  that," 
said  Joe. 

"  I  am  under  great  obligations  to  him,  too.  He 
is  certainly  the  most  important  man  with  whom  I 
have  any  relations.  We  can  trust  each  other  —  it 
would  not  do  to  endanger  the  certainty  of  good 
faith  that  exists  between  us." 

"  He  must  be  a  very  wonderful  person,"  said  Joe, 
who  had  grown  quite  calm  by  this  time.  "  I  should 
like  to  know  him." 

"  Very  possibly  you  may  meet  him,  some  day. 
He  is  a  very  wonderful  person  indeed,  as  you  say. 
He  has  devoted  fifty  years  of  his  life  and  strength 
to  the  unremitting  pursuit  of  the  best  ami  that  any 
man  can  set  before  him." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  273 

"  In  other  words,"  said  Joe,  "  he  is  your  ideal. 
He  is  what  you  hope  to  be  at  his  age.  He  must 
be  very  old." 

"  Yes,  he  is  old.  As  for  his  representing  my 
ideal,  I  think  he  approaches  more  nearly  to  it 
than  any  man  alive.  But  you  would  probably  not 
like  him." 

"Why?" 

"  He  belongs  to  a  class  of  men  whom  old-world 
people  especially  dislike,"  answered  John.  "  He 
does  not  believe  in  any  monarchy,  aristocracy,  or 
distinction  of  birth.  He  looks  upon  titles  as  a  de 
caying  institution  of  barbarous  ages,  and  he  con 
fidently  asserts  that  in  two  or  three  generations 
the  republic  will  be  the  only  form  of  social  con 
tract  known  amongst  the  inhabitants  of  the  civil 
ized  world." 

John  was  watching  Joe  while  he  spoke.  He  was 
merely  talking  because  it  seemed  necessary,  and  he 
saw  that  in  spite  of  her  assumed  calm  she  was  still 
greatly  agitated.  She  seemed  anxious,  however,  to 
continue  the  conversation. 

"  It  is  absurd,"  said  she,  "  to  say  that  all  men 
are  born  equal." 

"  Everything  depends  on  what  you  mean  by  the 
word  '  equal.'  I  mean  by  it  that  all  men  are  born 
with  an  equal  claim  to  a  share  in  all  the  essential 
rights  of  free  citizenship.  When  a  man  demands 
more  than  that,  he  is  infringing  on  the  rights  of 
others ;  when  he  is  content  with  less,  he  is  allowing 
himself  to  be  robbed." 

18 


274  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"But  who  is  to  decide  just  how  much  belongs 
to  each  man  ?  "  asked  Joe,  leaning  back  wearily 
against  the  cushions.  She  wished  now  that  she 
had  allowed  him  to  call  her  aunt.  It  was  a  fear 
ful  strain  on  her  faculties  to  continue  talking  upon 
general  subjects  and  listening  to  John  Harring 
ton's  calm,  almost  indifferent  tones. 

"  The  majority  decides  that,"  said  John. 

"  But  a  majority  has  just  decided  that  you  are 
not  to  be  senator,"  said  Joe.  "  According  to  you 
they  were  right,  were  they  not  ?  " 

"  It  is  necessary  that  the  majority  should  be 
free,"  said  John,  "  and  that  they  should  judge  of 
themselves,  each  man  according  to  his  honest  be 
lief.  Majorities  with  us  are  very  frequently  pro 
duced  by  a  handful  of  dishonest  men,  who  can 
turn  the  scale  on  either  side,  to  suit  their  private 
ends.  It  is  the  aim  we  set  before  us  to  protect  the 
freedom  of  majorities.  That  is  the  true  doctrine 
of  a  republic." 

"And  for  that  aim,"  said  Joe,  slowly,  "you 
would  sacrifice  everything  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  we  would,"  said  John,  gravely. 
"  For  that  end  we  will  sacrifice  all  that  we  have  to 
give  —  the  care  for  personal  satisfaction,  the  hope 
of  personal  distinction,  the  peace  of  a  home  and  the 
love  of  a  wife.  We  seek  neither  distinction  nor 
satisfaction,  and  we  renounce  all  ties  that  could 
hamper  our  strength  or  interfere  with  the  perse 
vering  and  undivided  attention  we  try  to  give  to 
our  work." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  275 

"That  is  a  magnificent  programme,"  said  Joe, 
somewhat  incredulously.  "Do  you  not  think  it  is 
possible  sometimes  to  aim  too  high  ?  You  say 
'we  seek,'  'we  try/  as  though  there  were  several 
of  you,  or  at  least,  some  one  besides  yourself. 
Do  you  believe  that  such  ideas  as  you  tell  me 
of  are  really  and  seriously  held  by  any  body  of 
men?" 

Nothing  had  seemed  too  high  to  Josephine  an 
hour  earlier,  nothing  too  exalted,  nothing  so  noble 
but  that  John  Harrington  might  do  it,  then  and 
there.  But  a  sudden  change  had  come  over  her, 
the  deadly  cold  phase  of  half  melancholy  unbelief 
£hat  often  follows  close  upon  an  unexpected  disap 
pointment,  so  that  she  looked  with  distaste  on  any 
thing  that  seemed  so  full  of  the  enthusiasm  she 
had  lost.  The  tears  that  had  risen  so  passionately 
to  her  dimmed  eyes  were  suddenly  frozen,  and 
seemed  to  flow  back  with  chilling  force  to  her 
heart.  She  coldly  asked  herself  whether  she  were 
mad,  that  she  could  have  suffered  thus  for  such  a 
man,  even  ever  so  briefly.  He  was  a  man,  she 
said,  who  loved  an  unattainable,  fanatic  idea  in 
the  first  place,  and  who  dearly  loved  himself  as 
well  for  his  own  fanaticism's  sake.  He  was  a  man 
in  whom  the  heart  was  crushed,  even  annihilated, 
by  his  intellect,  which  he  valued  far  too  highly,  and 
by  his  vanity,  which  he  dignified  into  a  philosophy 
of  self-sacrifice.  He  was  aiming  at  what  no  man 
can  reach,  and  though  he  knew  his  object  to  be  be 
yond  human  grasp,  he  desired  all  possible  credit  for 


276  AN  AMERICAN    POLITICIAN. 

having  madly  dreamed  of  anything  so  high.  In  the 
sudden  revulsion  of  her  strong  passion,  she  almost 
hated  him,  she  almost  felt  the  power  to  refute  his 
theories,  to  destroy  his  edifice  of  fantastic  moral 
ity,  and  finally  to  show  him  that  he  was  a  fool 
among  men,  and  doubly  a  fool,  because  he  was  not 
even  happy  in  his  own  folly. 

Joe  vaguely  felt  all  this,  and  with  it  she  felt  a 
sense  of  shame  at  having  so  nearly  broken  down 
at  the  news  that  he  was  going  away.  He  had 
thought  she  was  ill ;  most  assuredly  he  could  not 
have  guessed  the  cause  of  what  he  had  seen ;  but 
nevertheless  she  had  suffered  a  keen  pain,  and  the 
tears  had  come  to  her  eyes.  She  did  not  under 
stand  it.  He  might  leave  her  now,  if  he  pleased, 
and  she  would  not  care  ;  indeed,  it  would  be  rather 
a  relief  if  he  would  go.  She  no  longer  asked 
what  she  was  to  him,  she  simply  reflected  that,  after 
all  was  said,  he  was  nothing  to  her.  She  felt  a 
quick  antagonism  to  his  ideas,  to  his  words,  and  to 
himself,  and  she  was  willing  to  show  it.  She  asked 
him  incredulously  whether  his  ideas  were  really 
held  by  others. 

"  It  makes  little  difference,"  answered  John, 
"  whether  they  are  many  or  few  who  think  as  1 
do,  and  I  cannot  tell  how  many  there  may  be. 
The  truth  is  not  made  truth  because  many  people 
believe  it.  The  world  went  round,  as  Galileo 
knew,  although  he  alone  stood  up  and  said  it  in 
the  face  of  mankind,  who  scoffed  at  him  for  his 
pains." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  277 

"In  other  words,  you  occupy  the  position  of 
Galileo,"  suggested  Joe,  calmly. 

"Not  I,"  said  John;  "but  there  are  men,  and 
there  have  been  men,  in  our  country  who  know 
truths  as  great  as  any  he  discovered,  and  who  have 
spent  their  lives  in  proclaiming  them.  I  know 
that  they  are  right,  and  that  I  am  right,  and  that, 
however  we  may  fail,  others  will  succeed  at  last.  I 
know  that,  come  what  may,  honor  and  truth  and 
justice  will  win  the  day  in  the  end!"  His  gray 
eyes  glittered  as  he  spoke,  and  his  broad  white 
hands  clasped  nervously  together  in  his  enthusi 
asm.  He  was  depressed  and  heartsick  at  his  fail 
ure,  but  it  needed  only  one  word  of  opposition  to 
rouse  the  strong  main  thought  of  his  life  into  the 
most  active  expression.  But  Joe  sat  coldly  by, 
her  whole  nature  seemingly  changed  in  the  few 
minutes  that  had  passed. 

"And  all  this  will  be  brought  about  by  the 
measures  you  advocated  the  other  day,"  said  she 
with  a  little  laugh.  "A  civil  service,  a  little  tariff 
reform  —  that  is  enough  to  inaugurate  the  reign  of 
honor,  truth,  and  justice?" 

John  turned  his  keen  eyes  upon  hers.  He  had 
begun  talking  because  she  had  required  it  of  him, 
and  he  had  been  roused  by  the  subject.  He  re 
membered  the  sympathy  she  had  given  him,  and 
he  was  annoyed  at  her  caprice. 

"Such  things  are  the  mere  passing  needs  of  a 
time,"  he  said.  "The  truth,  justice,  and  honor  at 
which  you  are  pleased  to  be  amused,  would  insure 


278  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

the  execution  at  all  times  of  what  is  right  and 
needful.  Without  a  foundation  composed  of  the 
said  truth,  justice,  and  honor,  to  get  what  /s  right 
and  needful  is  often  a  matter  so  stupendous  that 
the  half  of  a  nation's  blood  is  drained  in  accom 
plishing  the  task,  if  even  it  is  accomplished  after 
all.  I  see  nothing  to  laugh  at. ' ' 

Indeed,  Joe  was  only  smiling  faintly,  but  John 
was  so  deeply  impressed  and  penetrated  by  the  ab 
solute  truth  of  what  he  was  saying,  that  he  had  al 
together  ceased  to  make  any  allowances  for  Joe's 
caprice  of  mood  or  for  the  disturbance  in  her  man 
ner  that  he  had  so  lately  witnessed.  He  was  be 
ginning  to  be  angry,  and  she  had  never  seen  him 
in  such  a  mood. 

' '  The  world  would  be  a  very  nice  tiresome  place 
to  live  in,"  she  said,  "if  every  one  always  did  ex 
actly  what  is  absolutely  right.  I  should  not  like 
to  live  among  people  who  would  be  always  so  en 
tirely  padded  and  lined  with  goodness  as  they 
must  be  in  your  ideal  republic." 

''It  is  a  favorite  and  characteristic  notion  of 
modern  society  to  associate  goodness  with  dullness, 
and  consequently,  I  suppose,  to  connect  badness 
with  all  that  is  gay,  interesting,  and  diverting. 
There  is  nothing  more  perverted,  absurd,  and  con 
temptible  than  that  notion  in  the  whole  history  of 
the  world. ' ' 

John  was  not  gentle  with  an  idea  when  he  de 
spised  it,  and  the  adjectives  fell  in  his  clear  utter 
ance  like  the  blows  of  a  sledge-hammer.  But  as 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  279 

the  idea  he  was  abusing  had  been  suggested  by 
Joe,  she  resented  the  strong  language. 

"  I  am  flattered  that  you  should  call  anything  I 
say  by  such  bad  names,"  she  said.  "  I  am  not 
good  at  arguing  and  that  sort  of  thing.  If  I  were 
I  think  I  could  answer  you  very  easily.  Will  you 
please  take  me  back  to  my  aunt  ?  "  She  rose  in  a 
somewhat  stately  fashion. 

John  was  suddenly  aware  that  he  had  talked  too 
much  and  too  strongly,  and  he  was  very  sorry  to 
have  displeased  her.  She  had  always  let  him  talk 
as  he  pleased,  especially  of  late,  and  she  had  almost 
invariably  agreed  with  him  in  everything  he  said, 
so4that  lie  had  acquired  too  much  confidence.  At 
all  events,  that  was  the  way  he  explained  to  him 
self  the  present  difficulty. 

"  Please  forgive  me,  Miss  Thorn,"  he  said  hum 
bly,  as  he  gave  her  his  arm  to  leave  the  room.  "  I 
am  a  very  sanguine  person,  and  I  often  talk  great 
nonsense.  Please  do  not  be  angry."  Joe  paused 
just  as  they  reached  the  door. 

"  Angry  ?  I  am  not  angry,"  she  said  with  sud 
den  gentleness.  "  Besides,  you  know,  this  is  — 
you  are  really  going  away  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  John. 

"  Then,  if  you  do,"  she  said  with  some  hesita 
tion  —  "  if  you  do,  this  is  good-by,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  afraid  it  is,"  said  John ;  "  but  not 
for  long." 

"  Not  for  long,  perhaps,"  she  answered  ;  "  but  I 
would  not  like  you  to  think  I  was  angry  the  very 
last  time  I  saw  you." 


280  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"No,  indeed.  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  you 
were.  But  you  are  not  ?  " 

"  No.  Well  then  "  —  she  held  out  her  hand  — 
"Good-by,  then."  She  had  almost  hated  him  a 
few  minutes  ago.  Half  an  hour  earlier  she  had 
loved  him.  Now  her  voice  faltered  a  little,  but  her 
face  was  calm. 

John  took  the  proffered  hand  and  grasped  it 
warmly.  With  all  her  caprice,  and  despite  the 
strange  changes  of  her  manner  toward  him,  she 
had  been  a  good  friend  in  a  bad  time  during  the 
last  days,  and  he  was  more  sorry  to  leave  her  than 
he  would  himself  have  believed. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said,  "  and  thank  you  once 
more,  with  all  my  heart,  for  your  friendship  and 
kindness."  Their  hands  remained  clasped  for  a 
moment ;  then  she  took  his  arm  again,  and  he  led 
her  out  of  the  dimly-lighted  sitting-room  back 
among  the  brilliant  dancers  and  the  noise  and  the 
music  and  the  whirling  crowd. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  CHANGE  has  come  over  Boston  in  four  months, 
since  John  Harrington  and  Josephine  Thorn  parted. 
The  breath  of  the  spring  has  been  busy  every 
where,  and  the  haze  of  the  hot  summer  is  ripening 
the  buds  that  the  spring  has  brought  out.  The 
trees  on  the  Common  are  thick  and  heavy  with 
foliage,  the  Public  Garden  is  a  carpet  of  bright 
flowers,  and  on  the  walls  of  Beacon  Street  the  great 
creepers  have  burst  into  blossom  and  are  stretch 
ing  long  shoots  over  the  brown  stone  and  the  iron 
balconies.  There  is  a  smell  of  violets  and  flowers 
in  the  warm  air,  and  down  on  the  little  pond  the 
swan-shaped  boats  are  paddling  about  with  their 
cargoes  of  merry  children  and  calico  nursery-maids, 
while  the  Irish  boys  look  on  from  the  banks  and 
throw  pebbles  when  the  policemen  are  not  looking, 
wishing  they  had  the  spare  coin  necessary  to  em 
bark  for  a  ten  minutes'  voyage  on  the  mimic  sea. 
Unfamiliar  figures  wander  through  the  streets  of 
the  West  End,  and  more  than  half  the  houses  show 
by  the  boarded  windows  and  doors  that  the  owners 
are  out  of  town. 

The  migration  of  the  "  tax-dodgers  "  took  place 
on  the  last  day  of  April ;  they  will  return  on  the 
second  day  of  December,  having  spent  just  six 


282  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

months  and  one  day  in  their  country  places,  where 
by  they  have  shifted  the  paying  of  a  large  propor 
tion  of  their  taxes  to  more  economical  regions.  It 
is  a  very  equitable  arrangement,  for  it  is  only  the 
rich  man  who  can  save  money  in  this  way,  while 
his  poorer  neighbor,  who  has  no  country-seat  to 
which  he  may  escape,  must  pay  to  the  uttermost 
farthing.  The  system  stimulates  the  impecunious 
to  become  wealthy  and  helps  the  rich  to  become 
richer.  It  is,  therefore,  perfectly  good  and  just. 

But  Boston  is  more  beautiful  in  the  absence  of 
the  "  tax-dodger  "  than  at  any  other  season.  There 
is  a  stillness  and  a  peace  over  the  fair  city  that  one 
may  long  for  in  vain  during  the  winter.  Business 
indeed  goes  on  without  interruption,  but  the  habita 
tion  of  the  great  men  of  business  knows  them  not. 
They  come  up  from  their  cool  bowers  by  the  sea, 
in  special  trains,  in  steamers,  and  in  yachts,  every 
morning,  and  early  in  the  afternoon  they  go  back, 
so  that  all  day  long  the  broad  streets  at  the  west 
are  quiet  and  deserted,  and  seem  to  be  basking  in 
the  sunshine  to  recover  from  the  combined  strain 
of  the  bitter  winter  and  the  unceasing  gayety  that 
accompanies  it. 

In  the  warm  June  weather  Miss  Schenectady 
and  Joe  still  linger  in  town.  The  old  lady  has  no 
new-fangled  notions  about  taxes,  and  though  she 
is  rich  and  has  a  pretty  place  near  Newport,  she 
will  not  go  there  until  she  is  ready,  no,  not  for  all 
the  tax-gatherers  in  Massachusetts.  As  for  Joe,  she 
does  not  want  to  go  away-  Urgent  letters  come 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  283 

by  every  mail  entreating  her  to  return  to  England 
in  time  for  a  taste  of  the  season  in  London,  but 
they  lie  unanswered  on  her  table,  and  often  she 
does  not  read  more  than  half  of  what  they  contain. 
The  books  and  the  letters  accumulate  in  her  room, 
and  she  takes  no  thought  whether  she  reads  them 
or  not,  for  the  time  is  weary  on  her  hands  and  she 
only  wishes  it  gone,  no  matter  how.  Nevertheless 
she  will  not  go  home,  and  she  even  begs  her  aunt 
not  to  leave  Boston  yet. 

She  is  paler  than  she  was  and  her  face  looks  thin. 
She  says  she  is  well  and  as  strong  as  ever,  but  the 
elasticity  is  gone  from  her  step,  and  the  light  has 
fn*ied  in  her  brown  eyes,  so  that  one  might  meet 
her  in  the  street  and  hardly  know  her.  As  she  sits 
by  the  window,  behind  the  closed  blinds,  the  soft 
ened  light  falls  on  her  face,  and  it  is  sad  and  weary. 

It  was  not  until  John  Harrington  was  gone  that 
she  realized  all.  He  had  received  the  message  he 
expected  early  on  the  morning  after  that  memorable 
parting,  and  before  mid-day  he  was  on  his  way. 
Since  then  she  had  heard  no  word  of  tidings  con 
cerning  him,  save  that  she  knew  he  had  arrived  in 
England.  For  anything  she  knew  he  might  even 
now  be  in  America  again,  but  she  would  not  believe 
it.  If  he  had  come  back  he  would  surely  have  come 
to  see  her,  she  thought.  There  were  times  when 
she  would  have  given  all  the  world  to  look  on  his 
face  again,  but  for  the  most  part  she  said  to  her 
self  it  was  far  better  that  she  should  never  see 
him.  Where  was  the  use  ? 


284  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

Joe  was  not  of  the  women  who  have  intimate 
confidants  and  can  get  rid  of  much  sorrow  by  much 
talking  about  it.  She  was  too  proud  and  too  strong 
to  ask  for  help  or  sympathy  in  any  real  distress. 
She  had  gone  to  Sybil  Brandon  when  she  was  about 
to  tell  Ronald  of  her  decision,  because  she  thought 
that  Sybil  would  be  kind  to  him  and  help  him  to 
forget  the  past ;  but  where  she  herself  was  alone 
concerned,  she  would  rather  have  died  many  deaths 
than  confess  what  was  in  her  heart. 

She  had  gone  bravely  through  the  remainder 
of  the  season,  until  all  was  over,  and  no  one  had 
guessed  her  disappointment.  Such  perfect  physical 
strength  as  hers  was  not  to  be  broken  down  by  the 
effort  of  a  few  weeks,  and  still  she  smiled  and 
talked  and  danced  and  kept  her  secret.  But  as  the 
long  months  crawled  out  their  tale  of  dreary  days, 
the  passion  in  her  soul  spread  out  great  roots  and 
grew  fiercely  against  the  will  that  strove  to  break 
it  down.  It  was  a  love  against  which  there  was  no 
appeal,  which  had  taken  possession  silently  and 
stealthily,  with  no  outward  show  of  wooing  or  sweet 
words ;  and  then,  safe  within  the  fortress  of  her 
maidenly  soul,  it  had  grown  up  to  a  towering 
strength,  feeding  upon  her  whole  life,  and  ruthlessly 
dealing  with  her  as  it  would.  But  this  love  sought 
no  confidence,  nor  help,  nor  assistance,  being  of  it 
self  utterly  without  hope,  strong  and  despairing. 

One  satisfaction  only  she  had  daily.  She  rejoiced 
that  she  had  broken  away  from  the  old  ties,  from 
Ronald  and  from  her  English  life.  To  have  found 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  285 

herself  positively  loving  one  man  while  she  was  be 
trothed  to  another  would  have  driven  her  to  terri 
ble  extremity ;  the  mere  idea  of  going  back  to  her 
mother  and. to  the  old  life  at  home  with  this  wild 
thought  forever  gnawing  at  her  heart  was  intoler 
able.  She  might  bear  it  to  the  end,  whatever  the 
end  might  be,  and  in  silence,  so  long  as  none  of  her 
former  associations  made  the  contrast  between  past 
and  present  too  strong.  Old  Miss  Schenectady, 
with  her  books  and  her  odd  conversation,  was  as 
good  a  companion  as  any  one,  since  she  could  not 
live  alone.  Sybil  Brandon  would  have  wearied  her 
by  her  sympathy,  gentle  and  loving  as  it  would 
have  been  ;  and  besides,  Sybil  was  away  from  Bos 
ton  and  very  happy ;  it  would  be  unkind,  as  well 
as  foolish,  to  disturb  her  serenity  with  useless  con 
fidences.  And  so  the  days  went  by  and  the  hot 
summer  was  come,  and  yet  Joe  lingered  in  Boston, 
suffering  silently  and  sometimes  wondering  how  it 
would  all  end. 

Sybil  was  staying  near  Newport  with  her  only 
surviving  relation,  an  uncle  of  her  mother.  He 
was  an  old  man,  upward  of  eighty  years  of  age, 
and  he  lived  in  a  strange  old  place  six  or  seven 
miles  from  the  town.  But  Ronald  had  been  there 
more  than  once,  and  he  was  always  enthusiastic  in 
his  description  of  what  he  had  seen,  and  he  seemed 
particularly  anxious  that  Joe  should  know  how 
very  happy  Sybil  was  in  her  country  surroundings. 
Ronald  had  traveled  during  the  spring,  making 
short  journeys  in  every  direction,  and  constantly 


286  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

talking  of  going  out  to  see  the  West,  a  feat  which 
he  never  accomplished.  He  would  go  away  for  a 
week  at  a  time  and  then  suddenly  appear  again, 
and  at  last  had  gravitated  to  Newport.  Thence  he 
came  to  town  occasionally  and  visited  Joe,  never 
remaining  more  than  a  day,  and  sometimes  only  a 
few  hours.  Joe  was  indifferent  to  his  comings  and 
goings,  but  always  welcomed  him  in  a  friendly  way. 
She  saw  that  he  was  amusing  himself,  and  was 
more  glad  than  ever  that  the  relations  formerly  ex 
isting  between  them  had  been  so  opportunely  broken 
off.  He  had  never  referred  to  the  past  since  the 
final  interview  when  Joe  had  answered  him  by 
bursting  into  tears,  and  he  talked  about  the  present 
cheerfully  enough. 

One  morning  he  arrived  without  warning,  as 
usual,  to  make  one  of  his  short  visits.  Joe  was 
sitting  by  the  window  dressed  all  in  white,  and  the 
uniform  absence  of  color  in  her  dress  rather  ex 
aggerated  the  pallor  of  her  face  than  masked  it. 
She  was  reading,  apparently  with  some  interest,  in 
a  book  of  which  the  dark-lined  binding  sufficiently 
declared  the  sober  contents.  As  she  read,  her 
brows  bent  in  the  effort  of  understanding,  while 
the  warm  breeze  that  blew  through  the  blinds 
fanned  her  tired  face  and  gently  stirred  the  small 
stray  ringlets  of  her  soft  brown  hair.  Konald 
opened  the  door  and  entered. 

"  Oh,  Ronald !  "  exclaimed  Joe,  starting  a  little 
nervously,  "  have  you  come  up  ?  You  look  like 
the  sunshine.  Come  in,  and  shut  the  door."  He 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  287 

did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  came  and  sat  beside 
her. 

"  Yes,  I  have  come  up  for  the  day.  How  are 
you,  Joe  dear  ?  You  look  pale.  It  is  this  beastly 
heat  —  you  ought  to  come  down  to  Newport  for  a 
month.  It  is  utterly  idiotic,  you  know,  staying  in 
town  in  this  weather." 

"  I  like  it,"  said  Joe.  "  I  like  the  heat  so  much 
that  I  think  I  should  be  cold  in  Newport.  Tell 
me  all  about  what  you  have  been  doing." 

"  Oh,  I  hardly  know,"  said  Ronald.  "  Lots  of 
things." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  do  in  one  day  —  yester 
day  for  instance.  I  want  to  be  amused  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  It  is  not  so  very  amusing,  you  know,  but  it  is 
very  jolly,"  answered  Ronald.  "  To  begin  with,  I 
get  up  at  unholy  hours  and  go  and  bathe  in  the 
surf  at  the  second  beach.  There  are  no  end  of  a 
a  lot  of  people  there  even  at  that  hour." 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say.     And  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  then  I  go  home  and  dress  ;  and  later,  if  I 
do  not  ride,  I  go  to  the  club  —  casino,  I  beg  its 
pardon  !  —  and  play  tennis.  They  play  very  de 
cently,  some  of  those  fellows." 

"  Are  there  any  nice  rides  ?  " 

"  Just  along  the  roads,  you  know.  But  when 
you  get  out  to  Sherwood  there  are  meadows  and 
things  —  with  a  brook.  That  is  very  fair." 

"  Do  you  still  go  to  Sherwood  often  ?  How  is 
Sybil  ?  " 


288  .4  AT  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 


"  Yes,"  said  Ronald,  and  a  blush  rose  quickly  to 
his  face,  "  I  often  go  there.  It  is  such  a  queer  old 
place,  you  know,  full  of  trees  and  old  summer- 
houses  and  graveyards  —  awfully  funny." 

"  Tell  me,  Ronald,"  said  Joe,  insisting  a  little, 
"  how  is  Sybil  ?  " 

"  She  looks  very  well,  so  I  suppose  she  is.  But 
she  never  goes  to  anything  in  Newport  ;  she  has 
not  been  in  the  town  at  all  yet,  since  she  went  to 
stay  with  her  uncle." 

"  But  of  course  lots  of  people  go  out  to  see  her, 
do  they  not  ?  " 

"Oh,  well,  not  many.  In  fact  I  do  not  remem 
ber  to  have  met  any  one  there,"  answered  Ronald, 
as  though  he  were  trying  to  recall  some  face  be 
sides  Miss  Brandon's.  "  Her  uncle  is  such  an  odd 
bird,  you  have  no  idea." 

"  I  do  not  imagine  you  see  very  much  of  him 
when  you  go  out  there,"  said  Joe,  with  a  faint 
laugh. 

"  Oh,  I  always  see  him,  of  course,"  said  Ronald, 
blushing  again.  "  He  is  about  a  hundred  years 
old,  and  wears  all  kinds  of  clothes,  and  wanders 
about  the  garden  perpetually.  But  I  do  not  talk 
to  him  unless  I  am  driven  to  it  "  — 

"  Which  does  not  occur  often,"  interrupted  Joe. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  suppose  not  very  often.  Why 
should  it  ?  " 

Ronald  was  visibly  embarrassed.  Joe  watched 
him  with  a  look  of  amusement  on  her  face  ;  but 
affectionately,  too,  as  though  what  he  said  pleased 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  289 

her  as  well  as  amused  her.  There  was  a  short 
pause,  during  which  Ronald  rubbed  his  hat  slowly 
and  gently.  Then  he  looked  up  suddenly  and  met 
Joe's  eyes ;  but  he  turned  away  again  instantly, 
blushing  redder  than  ever. 

"  Ronald,"  Joe  said  presently,  "  I  am  so  glad." 

"Glad?     Why?     About  what?" 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  like  her,  and  that  she  likes 
you.  I  think  you  like  her  very  much,  Ronald." 

"  Oh  yes,  very  much,"  repeated  Ronald,  trying 
to  seem  indifferent. 

"  Do  you  not  feel  as  though  we  were  much  more 
like  brother  and  sister  now  ?  "  asked  Joe,  after  a 
little  while. 

'*Oh,  much  !  "  assented  Ronald.  "  I  suppose  it 
is  better,  too,  though  I  did  not  think  so  at  first." 

"  It  is  far  better,"  said  Joe,  laying  her  small, 
thin  hand  across  her  cousin's  strong  fingers  arid 
pressing  them  a  little.  "  You  are  free  now,  and 
you  will  probably  be  very  happy  before  long.  Do 
you  not  think  so  ? "  she  asked,  looking  affection 
ately  into  his  eyes. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Ronald,  with  a  last  attempt 
at  indifference.  Then  suddenly  his  face  softened, 
and  he  added  in  a  gentler  tone,  "  Indeed,  Joe,  I 
think  I  shall  be  very  happy  soon." 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Joe  again,  still  holding  his 
hand,  but  leaning  her  head  back  wearily  in  the 
deep  chair.  "  There  is  only  one  thing  that  troubles 
me." 

"What  is  that?" 

19 


290  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  That  horrid  will,"  said  Joe.  "  I  am  sure  we 
could  get  it  altered  in  some  way." 

"  We  never  thought  about  it  before,  Joe.  Why 
should  we  think  about  it  now  ?  It  seems  to  me  it 
is  a  very  good  will  as  things  have  turned  out." 

"  But,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Joe,  "  if  you  are  mar 
ried  to  Sybil  Brandon,  you  will  need  ever  so  much 
money." 

Ronald  blushed  again. 

"  I  have  not  asked  her  to  marry  me,"  he  said 
quickly. 

"  That  makes  no  difference  at  all,"  replied  Joe. 
"  As  I  was  saying,  when  you  have  married  her  you 
will  need  money." 

"  What  an  idea !  "  exclaimed  Ronald,  indig 
nantly.  "  As  if  any  one  wanted  to  be  rich  in 
order  to  be  happy.  Besides,  between  what  I  have 
of  my  own,  and  my  share  of  the  money,  there  is 
nearly  four  thousand  a  year  ;  and  then  there  is  the 
place  in  Lanarkshire  for  us  to  live  in.  As  if  that 
were  not  enough  !  " 

"  It  is  not  so  very  much,  though,"  said  Joe,  re 
flecting.  "  I  do  not  think  Sybil  has  anything  at 
all.  You  will  be  as  poor  as  two  little  church  mice ; 
but  I  will  come  and  stay  with  you  sometimes,"  Joe 
added,  laughing,  "  and  help  you  about  the  bills." 

"  The  bills  would  take  care  of  themselves,"  said 
Ronald,  gravely.  "They  always  do.  But  what 
ever  happens,  Joe,  my  home  is  always  yours.  You 
will  always  remember  that,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  Dear  Ronald,"  answered  his  cousin  affection- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  291 

ately,  "  you  are  as  good  as  it  is  possible  to  be  — 
you  really  are." 

"  Ronald,"  said  Joe,  after  a  pause,  "  I  have  an 
idea." 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  but  said  nothing. 

"  I  might,"  she  continued,  smiling  at  the  thought 
—  "I  may  go  and  marry  first,  you  know,  after  all, 
and  spoil  it." 

"  But  you  will  not,  will  you  ?  Promise  me  you 
..will  not." 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  said  Joe,  "  and  then  you  could 
have  the  money  "  — 

"  But  I  would  not  let  you,"  interrupted  Ronald. 
"  I  would  go  off  and  get  married  by  license,  and 
that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Without  asking  Miss  Brandon  ?  "  suggested 
Joe. 

"  Nonsense !  "  ejaculated  Ronald,  coloring  for 
the  twentieth  time. 

"  I  think  we  are  talking  nonsense  altogether,'* 
said  Joe,  seriously.  "  I  do  not  think,  indeed  I  am 
quite  sure,  I  shall  never  marry." 

"  How  absurd  !  "  cried  Ronald.  "  The  idea  of 
your  not  marrying.  It  is  perfectly  ridiculous." 

The  name  of  John  Harrington  was  on  his  lips, 
but  he  checked  himself.  John  was  gone  abroad, 
and  with  more  than  usual  tact,  Ronald  reflected 
that,  if  Joe  had  really  cared  for  the  man,  an  allu 
sion  to  him  would  be  unkind.  But  Joe  only  shook 
her  head,  and  let  her  cousin's  words  pass  unan 
swered. 


292  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

She  had  long  suspected,  from  Eonald  's  frequent 
allusions  to  Sybil,  which  were  generally  accom 
panied  by  some  change  of  manner,  that  he  was 
either  already  in  love  with  the  fair  American  girl, 
or  that  he  soon  would  be,  and  the  acknowledgment 
she  had  now  received  from  himself  gave  her  infi 
nite  pleasure.  In  her  reflections  upon  ner  own 
conduct  she  had  never  blamed  herself,  but  she  had 
more  than  once  thought  that  he  was  greatly  to  be 
pitied.  To  have  married  him  six  months  ago, 
when  she  was  fully  conscious  that  she  did  not  love 
him,  would  have  been  very  wrong;  and  to  have 
gone  back  at  a  later  period,  when  she  realized  that 
her  whole  life  was  full  of  her  love  for  John  Har 
rington,  would  have  been  a  crime.  But  in  spite 
of  that  she  was  often  very  sorry  for  Ronald,  and 
feared  that  she  had  hurt  his  happiness  past  curing. 
Now,  therefore,  when  she  saw  how  much  he  loved 
another,  she  was  exceedingly  glad  for  she  knew 
that  the  thing  she  had  done  had  been  wholly  good, 
both  for  him  and  for  her. 

They  soon  began  to  talk  of  other  things,  but  the 
conversation  fell  back  to  the  discussion  of  New 
port,  and  Joe  learned  with  some  surprise  that  Po- 
cock  Vancouver  assiduously  cultivated  Eonald 's 
acquaintance,  and  was  always  ready  to  do  anything 
in  the  world  that  Ronald  desired.  It  appeared  that 
Vancouver  lent  Ronald  his  horses  at  all  times,  and 
was  apparently  delighted  when  Ronald  would  take 
a  mount  and  stay  away  all  day.  The  young  Eng 
lishman,  of  course,  was  not  loath  to  accept  such 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  293 

offers,  having  a  radical  and  undisguised  contempt 
for  hired  horseflesh,  and  as  Sybil  lived  several 
miles  out  of  town,  it  was  far  the  most  pleasant 
plan  to  ride  out  to  her,  and  after  spending  the  day 
there,  to  ride  back  in  the  evening,  more  especially 
as  it  cost  him  nothing. 

Joe  was  on  the  point  of  making  some  remark 
upon  Vancouver,  which  would  very  likely  have  had 
the  effect  of  cooling  the  intimacy  between  him  and 
Ronald;  but  she  thought  better  of  it,  and  said 
nothing.  Ronald  had  had  no  part  in  all  the  ques 
tions  connected  with  John's  election,  and  knew 
nothing  of  what  Vancouver  had  done  in  the  matter. 
ItVas  better  on  many  grounds  not  to  stir  up  fresh 
trouble,  and  so  long  as  Vancouver's  stables  afforded 
Ronald  an  easy  and  economical  means  of  locomo 
tion  from  Newport  to  the  house  of  the  woman  he 
loved,  the  friendship  that  had  sprung  up  was  a 
positive  gain.  She  could  not  understand  the  mo 
tives  that  prompted  Vancouver  in  the  least.  He 
had  made  more  than  one  attempt  to  regain  his  po 
sition  with  her  after  the  direct  cut  he  had  sustained 
on  the  evening  when  she  parted  with  John ;  but 
Joe  had  resolutely  set  her  face  against  him.  Pos 
sibly  she  thought  Vancouver  might  hope  to  regain 
her  good  opinion  by  a  regular  system  of  kindness 
to  Ronald ;  but  it  hardly  seemed  to  her  as  though 
such  a  result  would  reward  him  for  the  pains  of 
his  diplomacy.  Meanwhile  it  would  be  foolish  of 
her  to  interfere  with  any  intimacy  which  was  of 
real  use  to  Ronald  in  his  suit. 


294  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Vancouver  was  carrying  out 
a  deliberate  plan,  and  one  which  was  far  from  ill- 
conceived.  He  had  not  been  so  blind  as  not  to  sus 
pect  Joe's  secret  attachment  for  John,  when  she 
was  willing  to  go  to  such  lengths  in  her  indignation 
against  himself  for  being  John's  enemy.  But  he 
had  disposed  of  John,  as  he  thought,  by  assisting, 
if  not  actually  causing,  his  defeat.  He  imagined 
that  Harrington  had  gone  abroad  to  conceal  the 
mortification  he  felt  at  having  lost  the  election, 
and  he  rightly  argued  that  for  some  time  Joe 
would  not  bestow  a  glance  upon  any  one  else.  In 
the  mean  time,  however,  he  was  in  possession  of 
certain  details  concerning  Joe's  fortune  which 
could  be  of  use,  and  he  accordingly  set  about  en 
couraging  Ronald's  affections  in  any  direction  they 
might  take,  so  long  as  they  were  not  set  upon  his 
cousin.  He  was  not  surprised  that  Ronald  should 
fall  in  love  with  Sybil,  though  he  almost  wished 
the  choice  could  have  fallen  upon  some  one  else, 
and  accordingly  he  did  everything  in  his  power  to 
make  life  in  Newport  agreeable  for  the  young 
Englishman.  It  was  convenient  in  some  respects 
that  the  wooing  should  take  place  at  so  central  a 
resort ;  but  had  the  case  been  different,  Vancouver 
would  not  have  hesitated  to  go  to  Saratoga,  Lenox, 
or  Mount  Desert,  in  the  prosecution  of  his  im 
mediate  purpose,  which  was  to  help  Ronald  to 
marry  any  living  woman  rather  than  let  him  return 
to  England  a  bachelor. 

When  Ronald  should  be  married,  Joe  would  be  in 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  295 

possession  of  three  quarters  of  her  uncle's  money 
—  a  very  considerable  fortune.  If  she  was  human, 
thought  Vancouver,  she  would  be  eternally  grate 
ful  to  him  for  ridding  her  of  her  cousin,  whom  she 
evidently  did  not  wish  to  marry,  and  for  helping 
her  thereby  to  so  much  wealth.  He  reflected  that 
he  had  been  unfortunate  in  the  time  when  he  had 
decided  to  be  a  candidate  for  her  hand ;  but  what 
ever  turn  affairs  took,  no  harm  was  done  to  his 
own  prospects  by  removing  Ronald  from  the  list  of 
possible  rivals.  He  was  delighted  at  the  prefer 
ence  Surbiton  showed  for  Sybil  Brandon,  and  in 
case  Ronald  hesitated,  he  reserved  the  knowledge 
h$  possessed  of  her  private  fortune  as  a  final  stim 
ulus  to  his  flagging  affections.  Hitherto  it  had 
not  seemed  necessary  to  acquaint  his  friend  with 
the  fact  that  Sybil  had  an  income  of  some  thirty 
thousand  dollars  yearly  —  indeed,  no  one  seemed 
to  know  it,  and  she  was  supposed  to  be  in  rather 
straitened  circumstances. 

As  for  his  own  chances  with  Joe,  he  had  care 
fully  hidden  the  tracks  of  his  journalistic  doings  in 
the  way  he  had  at  once  proposed  to  himself  when 
Joe  attacked  him  on  the  subject.  A  gentleman 
had  been  found  upon  whom  he  had  fastened  the 
authorship  of  the  articles  in  the  public  estimation, 
and  the  gentleman  would  live  and  die  with  the 
reputation  for  writing  he  had  thus  unexpectedly 
obtained.  He  had  ascertained  beyond  a  doubt 
that  Joe  knew  nothing  of  his  interview  with  Bally- 
molloy,  and  he  felt  himself  in  a  strong  position. 


296  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

Pocock  Vancouver  had  for  years  taken  an  infi 
nite  amount  of  pains  in  planning  and  furthering 
his  matrimonial  schemes.  He  was  fond  of  money  ; 
but  in  a  slightly  less  degree  he  was  fond  of  all  that 
is  beautiful  and  intelligent  in  woman ;  so  that  his 
efforts  to  obtain  for  himself  what  he  considered  a 
perfect  combination  of  wit,  good  looks,  and  money, 
although  ineffectual,  had  occupied  a  great  deal  of 
his  spare  time  very  agreeably. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SHERWOOD  was  a  very  old  place.  It  had  been 
built  a  hundred  years  at  least  before  the  Revolu 
tion  in  the  days  when  the  States  had  English  gov 
ernors,  and  when  its  founder  had  been  governor  of 
Rhode  Island.  His  last  descendant  in  the  direct 
line  was  Sybil  Brandon's  great-uncle. 

The  old  country-seat  was  remarkable  chiefly  for 
ih*  extent  of  the  gardens  attached  to  the  house, 
and  for  the  singularly  advanced  state  of  dilapida 
tion  in  which  everything  was  allowed  to  remain. 
Beyond  the  gardens  the  woods  stretched  down  to 
the  sea,  unpruned  and  thick  with  a  heavy  under 
growth  ;  from  the  road  the  gardens  were  hidden 
by  thick  hedges,  and  by  the  forbidding  gray  front 
of  the  building.  It  was  not  an  attractive  place  to 
look  at,  and  once  within  the  precincts  there  was  a 
heavy  sense  of  loneliness  and  utter  desolation,  that 
seemed  to  fit  it  for  the  very  home  of  melancholy. 

The  damp  sea  air  had  drawn  green  streaks  of 
mould  downwards  from  each  several  jointing  of  the 
stones ;  the  long-closed  shutters  of  some  of  the  win 
dows  were  more  than  half  hidden  by  creepers, 
bushy  and  straggling  by  turns,  and  the  eaves  were 
all  green  with  moss  and  mould.  From  the  deep- 
arched  porch  at  the  back  a  weed-grown  gravel 


298  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

walk  led  away  through  untrimmed  hedges  of  box 
and  myrtle  to  an  ancient  summer-house  on  the 
edge  of  a  steep  slope  of  grass.  To  right  and 
left  of  this  path,  the  rose-trees  and  box  that  had 
once  marked  the  gayest  of  flower  gardens  now 
grew  in  such  exuberance  of  wild  profusion  that 
it  would  have  needed  strong  arms  and  a  sharp  axe 
to  cut  a  way  through.  Far  away  on  a  wooded 
knoll  above  the  sea  was  the  old  graveyard,  where 
generations  of  Sherwoods  lay  dead  in  their  quiet 
rest,  side  by  side. 

But  for  a  space  in  every  year  the  desolation  was 
touched  with  the  breath  of  life,  and  the  sweet  June 
air  blew  away  the  mould  and  the  smell  of  death, 
and  the  wild  flowers  and  roses  sprang  up  joyfully 
in  the  wilderness  to  greet  the  song-birds  and  the 
butterflies  of  summer.  And  in  this  copious  year  a 
double  spring  had  come  to  Sherwood,  for  Sybil 
Brandon  had  arrived  one  day,  and  her  soft  eyes 
and  golden  hair  had  banished  all  sadness  and 
shadow  from  the  old  place.  Even  the  thin  old 
man,  who  lived  there  among  the  ghosts  and  shad 
ows  of  the  dead  and  dying  past,  smoothed  the  wrin 
kles  from  his  forehead,  forgetting  to  long  selfishly 
for  his  own  death,  when  Sybil  came  ;  and  with 
touching  thoughtfulness  he  strove  to  amuse  her, 
and  to  be  younger  for  her  sake.  He  found  old 
garments  of  a  gayer  time,  full  thirty  years  hid 
den  away  in  the  great  wardrobes  up-stairs,  and  he 
put  them  on  and  wore  them,  though  they  hung 
loosely  about  his  shaken  and  withered  frame,  lest 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  299 

he  should  be  too  sad  a  thing  for  such  young  eyes 
to  look  upon. 

Then  Ronald  came  one  day,  and  the  old  man 
took  kindly  to  him,  and  bade  him  come  often.  In 
the  innocence  of  his  old  age  it  seemed  good  that 
what  youth  and  life  there  was  in  the  world  should 
come  together ;  and  Ronald  treated  him  with  a 
deference  and  respect  to  which  he  had  long  been 
unused.  Moreover,  Ronald  accepted  the  invitation 
given  him  and  came  as  often  as  he  pleased,  which, 
before  long,  meant  every  day.  When  he  came  in 
the  morning  he  generally  stayed  until  the  evening, 
and  when  he  came  in  the  afternoon  he  always 
stayed  as  long  as  Sybil  would  let  him,  and  rode 
honte  late  through  the  misty  June  moonlight  pon 
dering  on  the  happiness  the  world  had  suddenly 
brought  forth  for  him  who  had  supposed,  but  a 
few  months  ago,  that  all  happiness  was  at  an  end. 

Six  months  had  gone  by  since  Ronald  had  first 
seen  Sybil,  and  he  had  changed  in  that  time  from 
boy  to  man.  Looking  back  through  the  past  years 
he  knew  that  he  was  glad  Joe  had  not  married 
him,  for  the  new  purpose  of  his  new  life  was  to 
love  and  marry  Sybil  Brandon.  There  was  no 
doubt  in  his  mind  as  to  what  he  would  do  ;  the 
strong  nature  in  him  was  at  last  roused,  and  he  was 
capable  of  anything  in  reason  or  without  it  to  get 
what  he  wanted. 

Some  one  has  said  that  an  Englishman's  idea  of 
happiness  is  to  find  something  he  can  kill  and  to 
hunt  it.  That  is  a  metaphor  as  well  as  a  fact.  It 


300  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

may  take  an  Englishman  half  a  lifetime  to  find 
out  what  he  wants,  but  when  he  is  once  decided  he 
is  very  likely  to  get  it,  or  to  die  in  the  attempt. 
The  American  is  fond  of  trying  everything  until 
he  reaches  the  age  at  which  Americans  normally 
become  dyspeptic,  and  during  his  comparatively 
brief  career  he  succeeds  in  experiencing  a  surpris 
ing  variety  of  sensations.  Both  Americans  and 
English  are  tenacious  in  their  different  ways,  and 
it  is  certain  that  between  them  they  have  gotten 
more  things  that  they  have  wanted  than  any  other 
existing  nation. 

What  most  surprised  Ronald  was  that,  having 
made  up  his  mind  to  marry  Sybil,  he  should  not 
have  had  the  opportunity,  or  perhaps  the  cour 
age,  to  tell  her  so.  He  remembered  how  easily 
he  had  always  been  able  to  speak  to  Joe  about 
matrimony,  and  he  wondered  why  it  should  be  so 
hard  to  approach  the  subject  with  one  whom  he 
loved  infinitely  more  dearly  than  he  had  ever  loved 
his  cousin.  But  love  brings  tact  and  the  knowl 
edge  of  fitness,  besides  having  the  effect  of  par 
tially  hiding  the  past  and  exaggerating  the  future 
into  an  eternity  of  rose-colored  happiness  ;  where 
fore  Ronald  supposed  that  everything  would  come 
right  in  time,  and  that  the  time  for  everything  to 
come  right  could  not  possibly  be  very  far  off. 

On  the  day  after  he  had  seen  Joe  in  Boston  he 
rode  over  to  Sherwood  in  the  morning,  as  usual, 
upon  one  of  Vancouver's  horses.  He  was  lighter 
at  heart  than  ever,  for  he  had  somewhat  dreaded 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  301 

the  revelation  of  his  intentions  to  Joe  ;  but  she 
had  so  led  him  on  and  helped  him  that  it  had  all 
seemed  very  easy.  He  was  not  long  in  reaching 
his  destination,  and  having  put  his  horse  in  the 
hands  of  the  single  man  who  did  duty  as  gardener, 
groom,  and  dairyman  for  old  Mr.  Sherwood,  he 
entered  the  garden,  where  he  hoped  to  meet  Sybil 
alone.  He  was  not  disappointed,  for  as  he  walked 
down  the  path  through  the  wilderness  of  shrubbery 
he  caught  sight  of  her  near  the  summer-house, 
stooping  down  in  the  act  of  plucking  certain  flow 
ers  that  grew  there. 

4  She,  too,  was  dressed  all  in  white,  as  he  had 
seen  his  cousin  on  the  previous  day  ;  but  the  dif 
ference  struck  him  forcibly  as  he  came  up  and  took 
her  outstretched  hand.  They  had  changed  places 
and  character,  one  could  almost  have  thought.  Joe 
had  looked  so  tired  and  weary,  so  "  wilted,"  as 
they  say  in  Boston,  that  it  had  shocked  Ronald  to 
see  her.  Sybil,  who  had  formerly  been  so  pale  and 
cold,  now  was  the  very  incarnation  of  life  ;  deli 
cate  and  exquisitely  fine  in  every  movement  and 
expression,  but  most  thoroughly  alive.  The  fresh 
soft  color  seemed  to  float  beneath  the  transparent 
skin,  and  her  deep  eyes  were  full  of  light  and 
laughter  and  sunshine.  Ronald's  heart  leaped  in 
his  breast  for  love  and  pride  as  she  greeted  him, 
and  his  brow  turned  hot  and  his  hands  cold  in  the 
confusion  of  his  happiness. 

"  You  have  been  away  again  ? "  she  asked 
presently,  looking  down  at  the  wild  white  lilies 
which  she  had  been  gathering. 


302  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Yes,  I  was  in  Boston  yesterday,"  answered  Ron 
ald,  who  had  immediately  begun  to  help  in  pluck 
ing  the  flowers.  "  I  went  to  see  Joe.  She  looks 
dreadfully  knocked  up  with  the  heat,  poor  child." 

And  so  they  talked  about  Joe  and  Boston  for  a 
little  while,  and  Sybil  sat  upon  the  steps  of  the 
summer-house  on  the  side  where  there  was  shade 
from  the  hot  morning  sun,  while  Ronald  brought 
her  handfuls  of  the  white  lilies.  At  last  there 
were  enough,  and  he  came  and  stood  before  her. 
She  was  so  radiantly  lovely  as  she  sat  in  the  warm 
shade  with  the  still  slanting  sunlight  just  falling 
over  her  white  dress,  he  thought  her  so  super- 
humanly  beautiful  that  he  stood  watching  her 
without  thinking  of  speaking  or  caring  that  she 
should  speak  to  him.  She  looked  up  and  smiled, 
a  quick  bright  smile,  for  she  was  woman  enough 
to  know  his  thoughts.  But  she  busied  herself  with 
the  lilies  and  looked  down  again. 

"Let  me  help  you,"  said  Ronald  suddenly, 
kneeling  down  before  her  on  the  path. 

"I  don't  think  you  can  —  very  much,"  said 
Sybil,  demurely.  "  You  are  not  very  clever  about 
flowers,  you  know.  Oh,  take  care!  You  will 
crush  it  —  give  it  back  to  me ! " 

Ronald  had  taken  one  of  the  lilies  and  was 
smelling  it,  but  it  looked  to  Sybil  very  much  as 
though  he  were  pressing  it  to  his  lips.  He  would 
not  give  it  back,  but  held  it  away  at  arm's  length 
as  he  knelt.  Sybil  made  as  though  she  were 
annoyed. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  303 

"Of  course,"  said  she,  "I  cannot  take  it,  if  you 
will  not  give  it  to  me."  Ronald  gently  laid  the 
flower  in  her  lap  with  the  others.  She  pretended 
to  take  no  notice  of  what  he  did,  but  went  on 
composing  her  nosegay. 

"Miss  Brandon"   —began  Ronald,  and  stopped. 

"Well  ?"  said  Sybil,  without  looking  up. 

"May  I  tell  you  something  ?"  he  asked. 

"That  depends,"  said  Sybil.  "Is  it  anything 
very  interesting  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Ronald.  There  seemed  to  be  some 
thing  the  matter  with  his  throat  all  at  once,  as 
though  he  were  going  to  choke.  Sybil  looked  up 
and  saw  that  he  was  very  pale.  She  had  never 
seen  him  otherwise  than  ruddy  before,  and  she  was 
startled ;  she  dropped  the  lilies  on  her  knees  and 
looked  at  him  anxiously.  Ronald  suddenly  laid 
his  hands  over  hers  and  held  them.  Still  she  faced 
him. 

"  I  am  very  unworthy  of  you  —  I  know  I  am  — 
but  I  love  you  very,  very  much."  He  spoke  dis 
tinctly  enough  now,  and  slowly.  He  was  as  white 
as  marble,  and  his  fingers  were  cold,  and  trembled 
as  they  held  hers. 

For  an  instant  after  he  had  spoken,  Sybil  did 
not  move.  Then  she  quietly  drew  back  her  hands 
and  hid  her  face  in  a  sudden,  convulsive  movement. 
She,  too,  trembled,  and  her  heart  beat  as  though 
it  would  break;  but  she  said  nothing.  Ronald 
sprang  from  the  ground  and  kneeled  again  upon 
the  step  beside  her;  very  gently  his  arm  stole 


304  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

about  her  and  drew  her  to  him.  She  took  one 
hand  from  her  face  and  tried  to  disentangle  his 
hold,  but  he  held  her  strongly,  and  whispered  in 
her  ear,  — 

"  Sybil,  I  love  you  —  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

Sybil  made  a  struggle  to  rise,  but  it  was  not  a 
very  brave  struggle,  and  in  another  moment  she 
had  fallen  into  his  arms  and  was  sobbing  out  her 
whole  love  passionately. 

"  Oh,  Ronald,  you  mu —  must  not ! "  But 
Ronald  did. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  were  still  sitting  side 
by  side  on  the  steps,  but  the  storm  of  uncertainty 
was  passed,  and  they  had  plighted  their  faith  for 
better  and  for  worse,  for  this  world  and  the  next. 
Ronald  had  foreseen  the  event,  and  had  hoped  for 
it  as  he  never  had  hoped  for  anything  in  his  life ; 
Sybil  had  perhaps  guessed  it ;  at  all  events,  now 
that  the  supreme  moment  was  over,  they  both  felt 
that  it  was  the  natural  climax  to  all  that  had 
happened  during  the  spring. 

"I  think,"  said  Sybil,  quietly,  "that  we  ought 
to  tell  my  uncle  at  once.  He  is  the  only  relation 
I  have  in  the  world." 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course,"  said  Ronald,  holding  her 
hand.  "  That  is,  you  know,  I  think  we  might  tell 
him  after  lunch.  Because  I  suppose  it  would  not 
be  the  right  thing  for  me  to  stay  all  day  after  he 
knows.  Would  it  ?  " 

"  Why  not? "  asked  Sybil.  "  He  must  know  it 
soon,  and  you  will  come  to-morrow." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  305 

"To-morrow,  and  the  next  day,  and  the  day 
after  that,  and  always,"  said  Ronald,  lovingly. 
"  But  he  will  not  like  it,  I  suppose." 

"  Why  not?  "  asked  Sybil,  again. 

"Because  I  am  poor,"  said  Ronald,  quietly. 
"  You  know  I  am  not  rich  at  all,  Sybil  dearest. 
We  shall  have  to  be  very  economical,  and  live  on 
the  place  in  Scotland.  But  it  is  a  very  pretty 
place,"  he  added,  reassuringly. 

Sybil  flushed  a  little.  Ho  did  not  know,  then, 
that  she  had  a  fortune  of  her  own.  It  was  a  new 
pleasure.  She  did  not  say  anything  for  a  mo 
ment. 

*'  Do  you  mind  very  much,  dearest  ?  "  asked  Ron 
ald,  doubtfully.  "  Do  you  think  it  would  bore 
you  dreadfully  to  live  in  the  country?  " 

Sybil  hesitated  before  she  answered.  She  hardly 
knew  whether  to  tell  him  or  not,  but  at  last  she 
decided  it  would  be  better. 

"  No,  Ronald,"  said  she,  smiling  a  little ;  "  I 
like  the  country.  But,  you  know,  we  can  live  any 
where  we  please.  I  am  rich,  Ronald  —  you  did 
not  know  it  ?  " 

Ronald  started  slightly.  It  was  indeed  an  un 
expected  revelation. 

"Really?"  he  cried.  "Oh,  I  am  so  glad  for 
you.  You  will  not  miss  anything,  then.  I  was  so 
afraid." 

That  evening  Ronald  telegraphed  to  Joe  the 
news  of  his  engagement,  and  the  next  day  he 
wrote  her  a  long  letter,  which  was  more  remark- 
20 


306  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

able  for  the  redundant  passion  expressed  than  for 
the  literary  merit  of  the  expression.  It  seemed 
far  easier  to  write  it  since  he  had  seen  her  and 
talked  with  her  about  Sybil,  not  because  he  felt  in 
the  least  ashamed  of  having  fallen  in  love  within 
six  months  of  the  dissolution  of  his  former  engage 
ment  with  Joe,  but  because  it  seemed  a  terribly 
difficult  thing  to  speak  to  any  one  about  Sybil. 
Ronald  was  very  far  from  being  poetical,  or  in  any 
way  given  to  lofty  and  mediaeval  reflections  of  the 
chivalric  sort,  but  he  was  a  very  honest  fellow, 
loving  for  the  first  time,  and  he  understood  that 
his  love  was  something  more  to  be  guarded  and  re 
spected  than  anything  that  had  yet  come  into  his 
life  ;  wherefore  it  seemed  almost  ungentlemanly  to 
speak  about  it. 

When  Joe  received  the  intelligence  her  satisfac 
tion  knew  no  bounds,  for  although  she  had  guessed 
that  the  climax  of  the  affair  was  not  far  off,  she 
had  not  expected  it  so  very  soon.  Had  she  searched 
through  the  whole  of  her  acquaintance  at  home 
and  in  America  she  could  have  found  no  one  whom 
she  considered  more  fit  to  be  Ronald's  wife,  and 
that  alone  was  enough  to  make  her  very  happy; 
but  the  sensation  of  freedom  from  all  further  re 
sponsibility  to  Ronald,  and  the  consciousness  that 
every  possible  good  result  had  followed  upon  her 
action,  added  so  much  to  her  pleasure  in  the  mat 
ter,  that  for  a  time  she  utterly  forgot  herself  and 
her  own  troubles.  She  instantly  wrote  a  long  and 
sympathetic  letter  to  Ronald,  and  another  to  Sybil. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  307 

Sybil  replied  at  once,  begging  Joe  to  come  and 
spend  a  month  at  Sherwood,  or  as  much  time  as 
she  was  able  to  give. 

"I  expect  you  had  best  go,"  remarked  Miss 
Schenectady.  "  It  is  getting  pretty  hot  here,  and 
you  look  quite  sick." 

"  Oh  no,  I  am  very  well,"  said  Joe ;  "  but  I 
think  I  will  go  for  a  week  or  ten  days." 

"  Well,  if  you  find  you  are  going  to  have  a  good 
time,  you  can  always  stay,  any  way,"  replied  the 
old  lady.  "I  think  if  I  were  you  I  would  take 
some  books  and  a  Bible  and  a  pair  of  old  boots." 

«Miss  Schenectady  did  not  smile,  but  Joe  laughed 
outright. 

"  A  Bible  and  a  pair  of  old  boots  !  "  she  cried. 

"Yes,  I  would,"  said  her  aunt.  "Old  Tom 
Sherwood  cannot  have  seen  a  Bible  for  fifty  years, 
I  expect,  and  it  might  sort  of  freshen  him  up." 
The  old  lady's  eye  twinkled  slightly  and  the  cor 
ners  of  her  mouth  twitched  a  little.  "  As  for  the 
old  boots,  if  you  conclude  to  go,  you  will  want 
them,  for  you  will  be  right  out  in  the  country 
there." 

Joe  laughed  again,  but  she  took  her  aunt's  ad 
vice  ;  and  on  the  following  day  she  reached  New 
port,  and  was  met  by  Sybil  and  Ronald,  who 
conveyed  her  to  Sherwood  in  a  thing  which  Joe 
learned  was  called  a  "  carryall." 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  Ronald  was  gone, 
the  two  girls  sat  in  an  angle  of  the  old  walls,  look 
ing  over  the  sea  to  eastward.  The  glow  of  the 


308  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

setting  sun  behind  them  touched  them  softly,  and 
threw  a  rosy  color  upon  Joe's  pale  face,  and  gilded 
Sybil's  bright  hair,  hovering  about  her  brows  in  a 
halo  of  radiant  glory.  Joe  looked  at  her  and  won 
dered  at  the  change  love  had  wrought  in  so  short  a 
time.  Sybil  had  once  seemed  so  cold  and  white 
that  only  a  nun's  veil  could  be  a  fit  thing  to  bind 
upon  her  saintly  head ;  but  now  the  orange  blos 
soms  would  look  better  there,  Joe  thought,  twined 
in  a  bride's  wreath  of  white  and  green,  of  purity 
and  hope. 

"  My  Snow  Angel,"  she  exclaimed,  "  the  sun 
has  melted  you  at  last !  " 

"  Tell  me  the  story  of  the  Snow  Angel,"  said 
Sybil,  smiling.  "You  once  said  that  you  would." 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Joe,  "  as  well  I  can  re 
member  it.  Mamma  used  to  tell  it  to  me  years 
and  years  ago,  when  I  was  quite  a  small  thing. 
It  is  a  pretty  story.  Listen. 

"  Once  on  a  time,  far  away  in  the  north,  there 
lived  an  angel.  She  was  very,  very  beautiful,  and 
all  of  the  purest  snow,  quite  white,  her  face  and 
her  hands  and  her  dress  and  her  wings.  She  lived 
alone,  ever  so  far  away,  all  through  the  long  win 
ter,  in  a  valley  of  beautiful  snow,  where  the  sun 
never  shone  even  in  the  summer.  She  was  the 
most  lovely  angel  that  ever  was,  but  she  was  so 
cold  that  she  could  not  fly  at  all,  and  so  she  waited 
in  the  valley,  always  looking  southward  and  wish 
ing  with  all  her  heart  that  the  sun  would  rise 
above  the  hill. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  309 

"  Sometimes  people  passed,  far  down  below,  in 
sledges,  and  she  almost  would  have  asked  some  one 
of  them  to  take  her  out  of  the  valley.  But  once, 
when  she  came  near  the  track,  a  man  came  by  and 
saw  her,  and  he  was  so  dreadfully  frightened  that 
he  almost  fell  out  of  the  sled. 

"  Sometimes,  too,  the  little  angels,  who  were 
young  and  curious,  would  fly  down  into  the  cold 
valley  and  look  at  her  and  speak  to  her. 

" '  Pretty  angel,'  they  would  say,  '  why  do  you 
stay  all  alone  in  this  dreary  place  ? ' 

"  '  They  forgot  me  here,'  she  used  to  answer, 
'  and  now  I  cannot  fly  until  the  sun  is  over  the  hill. 
But  I  am  very  happy.  It  will  soon  come.' 

"it  was  too  cold  for  the  little  angels,  and  so 
they  soon  flew  away  and  left  her  ;  and  they  began 
to  call  her  the  Snow  Angel  among  themselves,  and 
some  of  them  said  she  was  not  real,  but  the  other 
ones  said  she  must  be,  because  she  was  so  beauti 
ful.  She  was  not  unhappy,  because  angels  never 
can  be,  you  know ;  only  it  seemed  a  long  time  to 
wait  for  the  sun  to  come. 

"  But  at  last  the  sun  heard  of  her,  and  the 
little  angels  who  had  seen  her  told  him  it  was  a 
shame  that  he  should  not  rise  high  enough  to  warm 
her  and  help  her  to  fly.  So,  as  he  is  big  and  good- 
natured  and  strong,  he  said  he  would  try,  and 
would  do  his  best ;  and  on  midsummer's  day  he 
determined  to  make  a  great  effort.  He  shook  him 
self,  and  pushed  and  struggled  very  hard,  and  got 
hotter  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  whole  life  with 


310  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

his  exertions,  but  at  last,  with  a  great  brave  leap, 
he  found  himself  so  high  that  he  could  see  right 
down  into  the  valley,  and  he  saw  the  Snow  Angel 
standing  there,  and  she  was  so  beautiful  that  he 
almost  cried  with  joy.  And  then,  as  he  looked,  he 
saw  a  very  wonderful  sight. 

"  The  Snow  Angel,  all  white  and  glistening, 
looked  up  into  the  sun's  face  and  stretched  her 
arms  towards  him  and  trembled  all  over  ;  and  as 
she  felt  that  he  was  come  at  last  and  had  begun  to 
warm  her,  she  thrust  out  her  delicate  long  wings, 
and  they  gleamed  and  shone  and  struck  the  cold 
clear  air.  Then  the  least  possible  tinge  of  exqui 
site  color  came  into  her  face,  and  she  opened  her 
lips  and  sang  for  joy  ;  and  presently,  as  she  was 
singing,  she  rose  straight  upward  with  a  rushing 
sound,  like  a  lark  in  the  sunlight,  the  whitest  and 
purest  and  most  beautiful  angel  that  ever  flew  in 
the  sky.  And  her  voice  was  so  grand  and  clear 
and  ringing,  that  all  the  other  angels  stopped  in 
their  songs  to  listen,  and  then  sang  with  her  in  joy 
because  the  Snow  Angel  was  free  at  last. 

"  That  is  the  story  mamma  used  to  tell  me,  long 
ago,  and  when  I  first  saw  you  I  thought  of  it,  be 
cause  you  were  so  cold  and  beautiful  that  you 
seemed  all  made  of  snow.  But  now  the  sun  is  over 
the  hill,  Sybil  dear,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  De^r  Joe,"  said  Sybil,  winding  her  arm  round 
her  friead's  neck  and  laying  her  face  close  to  hers, 
"  you  are  so  nice." 

The  suii  sank  suddenly  behind  them,  and  all  the 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  311 

eastern  water  caught  the  purple  glow.  It  was  dark 
when  the  two  girls  walked  slowly  back  to  the  old 
house. 

Joe  stayed  many  days  with  Sybil  at  Sherwood, 
and  the  days  ran  into  weeks  and  the  weeks  to 
months  as  the  summer  sped  by.  Ronald  came  and 
went  daily,  spending  long  hours  with  Sybil  in  the 
garden,  and  growing  more  manly  and  quiet  in  his 
happiness,  while  Sybil  grew  ever  fairer  in  the 
gradual  perfecting  of  her  beauty.  It  was  comfort 
ing  to  Joe  to  see  them  together,  knowing  what 
honest  hearts  they  were.  She  occupied  herself  as 
she  e*buld  with  books  and  a  few  letters,  but  she 
would  often  sit  for  hours  in  a  deep  chair  under  the 
overhanging  porch,  where  the  untrimmed  honey 
suckle  waved  in  the  summer  breeze  like  a  livino- 

O 

curtain,  and  the  birds  would  come  and  swing  them 
selves  upon  its  tendrils.  But  Joe's  cheek  was  al 
ways  pale,  and  her  heart  weary  with  longing  and 
with  fighting  against  the  poor  imprisoned  love  that 
no  one  must  ever  guess. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  wedding-day  was  fixed  for  the  middle  of 
August,  and  the  ceremony  was  to  take  place  in 
Newport.  It  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  arrange  the 
marriage  of  two  young  people  neither  of  whom 
has  father  or  mother,  though  their  subsequent  hap 
piness  is  not  likely  to  suffer  much  by  the  bereave 
ment.  It  was  agreed,  however,  that  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham,  who  was  Sybil's  oldest  friend,  should  come 
and  stay  at  Sherwood  until  everything  was  finished ; 
and  she  answered  the  invitation  by  saying  she  was 
"  perfectly  wild  to  come,"  —  and  she  came  at  once. 
Uncle  Tom  Sherwood  was  a  little  confused  at  the 
notion  of  having  his  house  full  of  people  ;  but 
Sybil  had  been  amusing  herself  by  reorganizing 
the  place  for  some  time  back,  and  there  is  nothing 
easier  than  to  render  a  great  old-fashioned  country 
mansion  habitable  for  a  few  days  in  the  summer, 
when  carpets  are  useless  and  smoking  chimneys 
are  not  a  necessity. 

Mrs.  Wyndham  said  that  Sam  would  come  down 
for  the  wedding  and  stay  over  the  day,  but  that 
she  expected  he  was  pretty  busy  just  now. 

"  By  the  way,"  she  remarked,  "  you  know  John 
Harrington  has  come  home.  We  must  send  him 
an  invitation." 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  313 

The  three  ladies  were  walking  in  the  garden 
after  breakfast,  hatless  and  armed  with  parasols. 
Joe  started  slightly,  but  no  one  noticed  it. 

"  When  did  he  come  —  where  has  he  been  all 
this  time  ?  "  asked  Sybil. 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  know.  He  came  down  to  see 
Sam  the  other  day  at  our  place.  He  seems  to 
have  taken  to  business.  They  talked  about  the 
Monroe  doctrine  and  the  Panama  canal,  and  all 
kinds  of  things.  Sam  says  somebody  has  died  and 
left  him  money.  Anyway,  he  seems  a  good  deal 
interested  in  the  canal." 

Mrs.  Wyndham  chatted  on,  planning  with  Sybil 
the  details  of  the  wedding.  The  breakfast  was  to 
l>e*at  Sherwood,  and  there  were  not  to  be  many 
people.  Indeed,  the  distance  would  keep  many 
away,  a  fact  for  which  no  one  of  those  principally 
concerned  was  at  all  sorry.  John  Harrington, 
sweltering  in  the  heat  of  New  York,  and  busier 
than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life,  received  an  en 
graved  card  to  the  effect  that  Mr.  Thomas  Sher 
wood  requested  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Harrington's 
company  at  the  marriage  of  his  grandniece,  Miss 
Sybil  Brandon,  to  Mr.  Ronald  Surbiton,  at  Sher 
wood,  on  the  15th  of  August.  There  was  also  a 
note  from  Mrs.  Wyndham,  saying  that  she  was 
staying  at  Sherwood,  and  that  she  hoped  John 
would  be  able  to  come. 

John  had,  of  course,  heard  of  the  engagement, 
but  he  had  not  suspected  that  the  wedding  would 
take  place  so  soon.  In  spite  of  his  business,  how- 


314  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

ever,  he  determined  to  be  present.  A  great  change 
had  come  over  his  life  since  he  had  bid  Joe  good-by 
six  months  earlier.  He  had  been  called  to  Lon 
don  as  he  had  expected,  and  had  arrived  there  to 
find  that  Z  was  dead,  and  that  he  was  to  take  his 
place  in  the  council.  The  fiery  old  man  had  died 
very  suddenly,  having  worked  almost  to  his  last 
hour,  in  spite  of  desperate  illness ;  but  when  it 
was  suspected  that  his  case  was  hopeless,  John 
Harrington  was  warned  that  he  must  be  ready  to 
join  the  survivors  at  once. 

In  the  great  excitement,  and  amidst  the  constant 
labor  of  his  new  position,  the  past  seemed  to  sink 
away  to  utter  insignificance.  His  previous  exer 
tions,  the  short  sharp  struggle  for  the  senatorship 
ending  in  defeat,  the  hopes  and  fears  of  ten  years 
of  a  most  active  life,  were  forgotten  and  despised 
in  the  realization  of  what  he  had  so  long  and  so 
ardently  desired,  and  now  at  last  he  saw  that  his 
dreams  were  no  impossibility,  and  that  his  theories 
were  not  myths.  But  he  knew  also  that,  with  all 
his  strength  and  devotion  and  energy,  he  was  as 
yet  no  match  for  the  two  men  with  whom  he  had 
to  do.  Their  vast  experience  of  men  and  things 
threw  his  own  knowledge  into  the  shade,  and  cool 
as  he  was  in  emergencies,  he  recognized  that  the 
magnitude  of  the  matters  they  handled  astonished 
and  even  startled  him  more  than  he  could  have  be 
lieved  possible.  Years  must  elapse  before  he  un 
derstood  what  seemed  as  plain  as  the  day  to  (hem, 
an:l  he  must  fight  many  desperate  battles  before  ho* 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  315 

was  their  equal.  But  the  determination  to  devote 
his  life  wholly  and  honestly  to  the  one  object  for 
which  a  man  should  live  had  grown  stronger  than 
ever.  In  his  exalted  view  the  ideal  republic  as 
sumed  grand  and  noble  proportions,  and  already 
overshadowed  the  whole  earth  with  the  glory  of 
honor  and  peace  and  perfect  justice.  Before  the 
advancing  tide  of  a  spotless  civilization,  all  pov 
erty,  all  corruption  and  filthiness,  all  crime,  all 
war  and  corroding  seeds  of  discord  were  swept  ut 
terly  away  and  washed  from  the  world,  to  leave 
only  forever  and  ever  the  magnificent  harmony  of 
nations  and  peoples,  wherein  none  of  those  vile, 
base,  and  wicked  things  should  even  be  dreamed 
of,  or  so  much  as  remembered. 

He  thought  of  Joe  sometimes,  wondering  rather 
vaguely  why  she  had  acted  as  she  had,  and  whether 
any  other  motive  than  pure  sympathy  with  his 
work  had  made  her  resent  so  violently  Vancouver's 
position  towards  him.  It  was  odd,  he  thought, 
that  an  English  girl  should  find  such  extreme  in 
terest  in  American  political  doings,  and  then  the 
scene  in  the  dim  sitting-room  during  the  ball  came 
vividly  back  to  his  memory.  It  was  not  in  his  na 
ture  to  fancy  that  every  woman  who  was  taken 
with  a  fit  of  coughing  was  in  love  with  him,  but 
the  conviction  formed  itself  in  his  mind  that  he 
might  possibly  have  fallen  in  love  with  Joe  if 
things  had  been  different.  As  it  was,  he  had  put 
away  such  childish  things,  and  meant  to  live  out 
his  years  of  work,  with  their  failure  or  success, 


316  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

without  love  and  without  a  wife.  He  would  always 
be  grateful  to  Joe,  but  that  would  be  all,  and  he 
would  be  glad  to  see  her  whenever  an  opportunity 
offered,  just  as  he  would  be  glad  to  see  any  other 
friend.  In  this  frame  of  mind  he  arrived  in  New 
port  on  the  morning  of  the  wedding,  and  reached 
the  little  church  among  the  trees  just  in  time  to 
witness  the  ceremony. 

It  was  not  different  from  other  weddings,  ex 
cepting  perhaps  that  the  place  where  the  High 
Church  portion  of  Newport  elects  to  worship  is 
probably  smaller  than  any  other  consecrated  build 
ing  in  the  world.  Every  seat  was  crowded,  and  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  John  could  find  standing 
room  just  within  the  door.  The  heat  was  intense, 
and  the  horses  that  stood  waiting  in  the  avenue, 
sweated  in  the  sun  as  they  fought  the  flies,  and 
pawed  the  hard  road  in  an  agony  of  impatience. 

Sybil  was  exquisitely  lovely  as  she  went  by  on 
old  Mr.  Sherwood's  arm.  The  old  gentleman  had 
consented  to  assume  a  civilized  garb  for  once  in  his 
life,  and  looked  pleased  with  his  aged  self,  as  well 
he  might  be,  seeing  that  the  engagement  had  been 
made  under  his  roof.  Then  Ronald  passed,  paler 
than  usual,  but  certainly  the  handsomest  man 
present,  carrying  himself  with  a  new  dignity,  as 
though  he  knew  himself  a  better  man  than  ever  in 
being  found  worthy  of  his  beautiful  bride.  It  was 
soon  over,  and  the  crowd  streamed  out  after  the 
bride  and  bridegroom. 

"  Hallo,  Harrington,  how  are  you  ?  "  said  Van- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  317 

couver,  overtaking  John  as  he  turned  into  the 
road.  "  You  had  better  get  in  with  me  and  drive 
out.  I  have  not  seen  you  for  an  age." 

John  stood  still  and  surveyed  Vancouver  with  a 
curiously  calm  air  of  absolute  superiority. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  he  answered  civilly. 
"  I  have  hired  a  carriage  to  take  me  there.  I  dare 
say  we  shall  meet.  Good-morning." 

John  had  been  to  Sherwood  some  years  before, 
but  he  was  surprised  at  the  change  that  had  been 
wrought  in  honor  of  the  marriage.  The  place 
looked  inhabited,  the  windows  were  all  open,  and 
the  paths  had  been  weeded,  though  Sybil  had  not 
allowed  the  wild  shrubbery  to  be  pruned  nor  the 
box  hedges  to  be  trimmed.  She  loved  the  pathless 
confusion  of  the  old  grounds,  and  most  of  all  she 
loved  the  dilapidated  summer-house. 

John  shook  hands  with  many  people  that  he 
knew.  Mrs.  Wyndham  led  him  aside  a  little  way. 

"  Is  it  not  just  perfectly  splendid  ? "  she  ex 
claimed.  "  They  are  so  exactly  suited  to  each 
other.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  done  it  all.  You  are  not 
at  all  enthusiastic." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  John,  "  I  am  very  en 
thusiastic.  It  is  the  best  thing  that  could  possibly 
have  happened." 

"  Then  go  and  do  likewise,"  returned  Mrs.  Sam, 
laughing.  Then  she  changed  her  tone.  "  There 
is  a  young  lady  here  who  will  be  very  glad  to  see 
you.  Go  and  try  and  cheer  her  up  a  little,  can't 

you?" 


318  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  " 

"  A  young  lady  over  there  —  close  to  Sybil  — 
dressed  in  white  with  roses.  Don't  you  see  ?  How 
stupid  you  are  !  There  —  the  second  on  the  left." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  is  Miss  Thorn  ?  "  ex 
claimed  John  in  much  surprise,  and  looking  where 
Mrs.  Sam  directed  him.  "•  Good  Heavens !  How 
she  has  changed  !  " 

"  Yes,  she  has  changed  a  good  deal,"  said  Mrs. 
Wyndham,  looking  at  John's  face. 

"  I  hardly  think  I  should  have  known  her,"  said 
John.  "  She  must  have  been  very  ill ;  what  has 
been  the  matter  ?  " 

"  The  matter  ?  Well,  perhaps  if  you  will  go 
and  speak  to  her,  you  will  see  what  the  matter  is," 
answered  Mrs.  Sam,  enigmatically. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  John  looked  at  his 
companion  in  astonishment. 

"  I  mean  just  exactly  what  I  say.  Go  and  talk 
to  her,  and  cheer  her  up  a  little."  She  dropped 
her  voice,  and  spoke  close  to  Harrington's  ear  — 
"  No  one  else  in  the  world  can,"  she  added. 

John's  impulse  was  to  answer  Mrs.  Wyndham 
sharply.  What  possible  right  could  she  have  to 
say  such  things  ?  It  was  extremely  bad  taste,  if  it 
was  nothing  worse,  even  with  an  old  friend  like 
John.  But  he  checked  the  words  on  his  lips  and 
spoke  coldly. 

"  It  is  not  fair  to  say  things  like  that  about  any 
girl,"  he  answered.  "  I  will  certainly  go  and  speak 
to  her  at  once,  and  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  319 

watch,  you  will  see  that  I  am  the  most  indifferent 
of  persons  in  her  eyes." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  watch,"  said  Mrs.  Wyndham, 
not  in  the  least  disconcerted.  "  Only  take  care." 

John  smiled  quietly,  and  made  his  way  through 
the  crowd  of  gayly-dressed,  laughing  people  to 
where  Joe  was  standing.  She  had  not  yet  caught 
sight  of  him,  but  she  knew  he  was  in  the  room,  and 
she  felt  very  nervous.  She  intended  to  treat  him 
with  friendly  coolness,  as  a  protest  against  her  con 
duct  in  former  days. 

Poor  Joe !  she  was  very  miserable,  but  she  had 
made  a  brave  effort.  Her  pale  cheeks  and  dark 
ened  eyes  contrasted  painfully  with  the  roses  she 
wore,  and  her  short  nervous  remarks  to  those  who 
spoke  to  her  sounded  very  unlike  her  former  self. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Thorn  ?  "  John  said, 
very  quietly.  "  It  is  a  long  time  since  we  met." 

Joe  put  her  small  cold  hand  in  his,  and  it  trem 
bled  so  much  that  John  noticed  it.  She  turned 
her  head  a  little  away  from  him,  frightened  now 
that  he  was  at  last  come. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  it  is  a  long 
time."  She  felt  herself  turn  red  and  then  pale, 
and  as  she  looked  away  from  John  she  met  Mrs. 
Wyndham's  black  eyes  turned  full  upon  her  in  an 
inquiring  way.  She  started  as  though  she  had 
been  caught  in  some  wrong  thing;  but  she  was 
naturally  brave,  and  after  the  first  shock  she  spoke 
to  John  more  naturally. 

"  We  seem  destined  for  festivities,  Mr.  Harring 


320  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

ton,"  she  said,  trying  to  laugh.  "  We  parted  at  a 
ball,  and  we  meet  again  at  a  wedding." 

"  It  is  always  more  gay  to  meet  than  to  part," 
answered  John.  "  I  think  this  is  altogether  one  of 
the  gayest  things  I  ever  saw.  What  a  splendid 
fellow  your  cousin  is.  It  does  one  good  to  see 
men  like  that." 

"  Yes,  Ronald  is  very  good-looking,"  said  Joe. 
"  I  am  so  very  glad,  you  do  not  know ;  and  he  is 
so  happy." 

"  Any  man  ought  to  be  who  marries  such  a 
woman,"  said  John.  "  By  the  bye,"  he  added  with 
a  smile,  "  Vancouver  takes  it  all  very  comfortably, 
does  he  not  ?  I  would  like  to  know  what  he  really 
feels." 

"  I  am  sure  that  whatever  it  is,  it  is  something 
bad,"  said  Joe. 

"  How  you  hate  him !  "  exclaimed  John  with  a 
laugh. 

"I  —  I  do  not  hate  him.  But  you  ought  to, 
Mr.  Harrington.  I  simply  despise  him,  that  is 
all." 

"  No,  I  do  not  hate  him  either,"  answered  John. 
"I  would  not  disturb  my  peace  of  mind  for  the 
sake  of  hating  any  one.  It  is  not  worth  while." 

Some  one  came  and  spoke  to  Joe,  and  John 
moved  away  in  the  crowd,  more  disturbed  in  mind 
than  he  cared  to  acknowledge.  He  had  gone  to 
Joe's  side  in  the  firm  conviction  that  Mrs.  Wynd- 
ham  was  only  making  an  untimely  jest,  and  that 
Joe  would  greet  him  indifferently.  Instead  she 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  321 

had  blushed,  turned  paler,  hesitated  in  her  speech, 
and  had  shown  every  sign  of  confusion  and  embar 
rassment.  He  knew  that  Mrs.  Wyndham  was 
right,  after  all,  and  he  avoided  her,  not  wishing  to 
give  a  fresh  opportunity  for  making  remarks  upon 
Joe's  manner. 

The  breakfast  progressed,  and  the  people  wan 
dered  out  into  the  garden  from  the  hot  rooms, 
seeking  some  coolness  in  the  shady  walks.  By 
some  chain  of  circumstances  which  John  could  not 
explain,  he  found  himself  left  alone  with  Joe  an 
hour  after  he  had  first  met  her  in  the  house.  A 
little  knot  of  acquaintances  had  gone  out  to  the  end 
of  one  of  the  walks,  Where  there  was  a  shady  old 
bower,  and  presently  they  had  paired  off  and 
moved  away  in  various  directions,  leaving  John 
and  Joe  together.  The  excitement  had  brought 
the  faint  color  to  the  girl's  face  at  last,  and  she 
was  more  than  usually  inclined  to  talk,  partly  from 
nervous  embarrassment,  and  partly  from  the  enliv 
ening  effect  of  so  many  faces  she  had  not  seen  for 
so  long. 

"Tell  me,"  she  said,  pulling  a  leaf  from  the 
creepers  and  twisting  it  in  her  fingers  —  "  tell  me, 
how  long  was  it  before  you  forgot  your  disappoint 
ment  about  the  election  ?  Or  did  you  think  it  was 
not  worth  while  to  disturb  your  peace  of  mind  for 
anything  so  trivial  ?" 

"I  suppose  I  could  not  help  it,"  said  John.     "I 
was  dreadfully  depressed  at  first.     I  told  you  so, 
do  you  remember  ?" 
21 


322  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Of  course  you  were,  and  I  was  very  soriy  for 
you.  I  told  you  you  would  lose  it,  long  before, 
but  you  do  not  seem  to  care  in  the  least  now.  I 
do  not  understand  you  at  all." 

"  I  soon  got  over  it,"  said  John.  "  I  left  Bos 
ton  on  the  day  after  I  saw  you,  and  went  straight 
to  London.  And  then  I  found  that  a  friend  of 
mine  was  dead,  and  I  had  so  much  to  do  that  I 
forgot  everything  that  had  gone  before." 

Joe  gave  a  little  sigh,  short  and  sharp,  and 
quickly  cheeked. 

"  You  have  a  great  many  friends,  have  you 
not  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,  very  many.  A  man  cannot  have  too 
many  of  the  right  sort." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  and  I  mean  the  same  thing 
by  friendship,"  said  Joe.  "  I  should  say  one  can 
not  have  too  few." 

"  I  mean  friends  who  will  help  you  at  the  right 
moment,  that  is,  when  you  ask  help.  Surely  it 
must  be  good  to  have  many." 

"  Everything  that  you  do  and  say  always  turns 
to  one  and  the  same  end,"  said  Joe,  a  little  im 
patiently.  "  The  one  thing  you  live  for  is  power 
and  the  hope  of  power.  Is  there  nothing  in  the 
world  worth  while  save  that  ?  " 

"  Power  itself  is  worth  nothing.  It  is  the  thing 
one  means  to  get  with  it  that  is  the  real  test." 

"  Of  course.  But  tell  me,  is  anything  you  can 
obtain  by  all  the  power  the  world  holds  better  than 
the  simple  happiness  of  natural  people,  who  are 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  323 

born  and  ^ve  good  lives,  arid  —  fall  in  love,  and 
marry,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  and  are  happy,  and 
die  ?  "  Joe  looked  down  and  turned  the  leaf  she 
held  in  her  fingers,  as  she  stated  her  proposition. 

John  Harrington  paused  before  he  answered. 
A  moment  earlier  he  had  been  as  calm  and  cold  as 
he  was  wont  to  be  ;  now,  he  suddenly  hesitated. 
The  strong1  blood  rushed  to  his  brain  and  beat  f  uri- 

o 

ously  in  his  temples,  and  then  sank  heavily  back 
to  his  heart,  leaving  his  face  very  pale.  His  fin 
gers  wrung  each  other  fiercely  for  a  moment.  He 
looked  away  at  the  trees  ;  he  turned  to  Josephine 
Thorn ;  and  then  once  more  he  gazed  at  the  dark 
foliage,  motionless  in  the  hot  air  of  the  summer's 
afternoon. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  think  there  are  things  much 
better  than  those  in  the  world."  But  his  voice 
shook  strangely,  and  there  was  no  true  ring  in  it. 

Joe  sighed  again. 

In  the  distance  she  could  see  Ronald  and  Sybil, 
as  they  stood  under  the  porch  shaking  hands  with 
the  departing  guests.  She  looked  at  them,  so  radi 
ant  and  beautiful  with  the  fulfilled  joy  of  a  perfect 
love,  and  she  looked  at  the  stern,  strong  man  by 
her  side,  whose  commanding  face  bore  already  the 
lines  of  care  and  trouble,  and  who,  he  said,  had 
found  something  better  than  the  happiness  of 
yonder  bride  and  bridegroom. 

She  sighed,  and  she  said  in  her  woman's  heart 
that  they  were  right,  and  that  John  Harrington 
was  wronsr. 


324  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  rising,  and  her  words  had  a 
bitter  tone,  "  let  us  go  in  ;  it  is  late." 

John  did  not  move.  He  sat  like  a  stone,  paler 
than  death,  and  said  no  word  in  answer.  Joe 
turned  and  looked  at  him,  as  though  wondering 
why  he  did  not  follow  her.  She  was  terrified  at 
the  expression  in  his  face. 

w  Are  you  not  coming  ?  "  she  asked,  suddenly 
going  close  to  him  and  looking  into  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

JOE  was  frightened  ;  she  stood  and  looked  into 
Harrington's  eyes,  doubting  what  she  should  do, 
not  understanding  what  was  occurring.  He  looked 
so  pale  and  strange  as  he  sat  there,  that  she  was 
terrified.  She  came  a  step  nearer  to  him,  and  tried 
to  speak. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Harrington  ?  "  she 
stammered.  "  Speak  —  you  frighten  me  !  " 
*  Harrington  looked  at  her  for  one  moment  more, 
and  then,  without  speaking,  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands.  Joe  clasped  her  hands  to  her  side  in  a 
sudden  pain  ;  her  heart  beat  as  though  it  would 
break,  and  the  scene  swam  round  before  her  in  the 
hot  air.  She  tried  to  move  another  step  towards 
the  bench,  and  her  strength  almost  failed  her  ;  she 
caught  at  the  lattice  of  the  old  summer-house,  still 
pressing  one  hand  to  her  breast.  The  rotten  slabs 
of  the  wood- work  cracked  under  her  light  weight. 
She  breathed  hard,  and  her  face  was  as  pale  as  the 
shadows  on  driven  snow ;  in  another  moment  she 
sank  down  upon  the  bench  beside  John,  and  sat 
there,  staring  vacantly  out  at  the  sunlight.  Har 
rington  felt  her  gentle  presence  close  to  him  and 
at  last  looked  up  ;  every  feature  of  his  strong  face 
seemed  changed  in  the  convulsive  fight  that  rent 


326  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

his  heart  and  soul  to  their  very  depths  ;  the  enoi> 
mous  strength  of  his  cold  and  dominant  nature 
rose  with  tremendous  force  to  meet  and  quell  the 
tempest  of  his  passion,  and  could  not ;  dark  circles 
made  heavy  shadows  under  his  deep-set  eyes,  and 
his  even  lips,  left  colorless  and  white,  were  strained 
upon  his  clenched  teeth. 

"  God  help  me  — I  love  you." 

That  was  all  he  said,  but  in  his  words  the  deep 
agony  of  a  mortal  struggle  rang  strangely  —  the 
knell  of  the  old  life  and  the  birth-chime  of  the 
new.  One  by  one,  the  words  he  had  never  thought 
to  speak  fell  from  his  lips,  distinctly ;  the  oracle  of 
the  heart  answered  the  great  question  of  fate  in  its 
own  way. 

Josephine  Thorn  sat  by  his  side,  her  hands  lying 
idly  in  her  lap,  her  thin  white  face  pressing  against 
the  old  brown  lattice,  while  a  spray  of  the  sweet 
honeysuckle  that  climbed  over  the  wood-work  just 
touched  her  bright  brown  hair.  As  John  spoke 
she  tried  to  lift  her  head  and  struggled  to  put  out 
her  hand,  but  could  not. 

As  the  shadows  steal  at  evening  over  the  earth, 
softly  closing  the  flowers  and  touching  them  to 
sleep,  silently  and  lovingly,  in  the  promise  of  a 
bright  waking  —  so,  as  she  sat  there,  her  eyelids 
drooped  and  the  light  faded  gently  from  her  face, 
her  lips  parted  a  very  little,  and  with  a  soft- 
breathed  sigh  she  sank  into  unconsciousness. 

John  Harrington  was  in  no  state  to  be  surprised 
or  startled  by  anything  that  happened.  He  saw, 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  327 

indeed,  that  she  had  fainted,  but  with  the  unerring 
instinct  of  a  great  love  he  understood.  With  the 
tenderness  of  his  strength  he  put  one  arm  about 
her,  and  drew  her  to  him  till  her  fair  head  rested 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  he  looked  into  her  face. 

In  a  few  moments  he  had  passed  completely 
from  the  old  life  to  a  life  which  he  had  never  be 
lieved  possible,  but  which  had  nevertheless  been 
long  present  with  him.  He  knew  it  and  felt 
it,  quickly  realizing  that  for  the  first  time  since 
he  could  remember  he  was  wholly  and  perfectly 
happy.  He  was  a  man  who  had  dreamed  of  all 
that  is  noble  and  great  for  man  to  do,  who  had 
consecrated  his  every  hour  and  minute  to  the  at 
tainment  of  his  end ;  and  though  his  aim  was  in 
itself  a  good  one,  the  undivided  concentration 
which  the  pursuit  of  it  required  had  driven  him 
into  a  state  outwardly  resembling  extreme  egotism. 
He  had  loved  his  own  purposes  as  he  had  loved 
nothing  else,  and  as  he  had  been  persuaded  that 
he  could  love  nothing  else,  in  the  whole  world. 
Now,  suddenly,  he  knew  his  own  heart. 

There  is  something  beyond  mere  greatness,  be 
yond  the  pursuit  of  even  the  highest  worldly  aims ; 
there  is  something  which  is  not  a  means  to  the 
attainment  of  happiness,  which  is  happiness  itself. 
It  is  an  inner  sympathy  of  hearts  and  souls  and 
minds,  a  perfect  union  of  all  that  is  most  worthy 
in  the  natures  of  man  and  woman ;  it  is  a  plant  so 
sensitive  that  a  breath  of  unkindness  will  hurt  it 
and  blight  its  beauty,  and  yet  it  is  a  tree  so  strong 


328  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

that  neither  time  nor  tempest  can  overthrow  it 
when  it  has  taken  root ;  and  if  you  would  tear  it 
out  and  destroy  it,  the  place  where  it  grew  is  as 
deep  and  as  wide  as  a  grave.  It  is  a  bond  that  is 
as  soft  as  silk  and  as  strong  as  death,  binding 
hearts,  not  hands  ;  so  long  as  it  is  not  strained  a 
man  will  hardly  know  that  he  is  bound,  but  if  he 
would  break  it  he  will  spend  his  strength  in  vain 
and  suffer  the  pains  of  hell,  for  it  is  the  very  es 
sence  and  nature  of  a  true  love  that  it  cannot  be 
broken. 

With  such  men  as  John  Harrington  love  at  first 
sight  is  an  utter  impossibility.  The  strong  domi 
nant  aspirations  that  lead  them  are  a  light  too 
brilliant  to  be  outshone  by  any  sudden  flash  of  hot 
passion.  Love,  when  it  comes  to  them,  is  of  slow 
growth,  but  enduring  in  the  same  proportion  as  it 
is  slow ;  identifying  itself,  by  degrees  so  small  that 
a  man  himself  is  unconscious  of  it,  with  the  deep 
est  feelings  of  the  heart  and  the  highest  workings 
of  the  intellect.  It  steals  silently  into  the  soul  in 
the  guise  of  friendship,  asking  nothing  but  loyal 
friendship  in  return ;  in  the  appearance  of  kind 
ness  which  asks  but  a  little  gratitude  ;  in  the  sem 
blance  of  a  calm  and  passionless  trustfulness,  de 
manding  only  a  like  trust  as  its  equivalent  pledge, 
a  like  faith  as  a  gauge  for  its  own,  an  equal  meas 
ure  of  charity  for  an  equal ;  and  so  love  builds 
himself  a  temple  of  faith  and  charity,  and  trust 
and  kindness,  and  honest  friendship,  and  rejoices 
exceedingly  in  the  whole  goodness  and  strength 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  329 

and  beauty  of  the  place  where  he  will  presently 
worship.  When  that  day  comes  he  stands  in  the 
midst  and  kindles  a  strong  clear  flame  upon  the 
altar,  and  the  fire  burns  and  leaps  and  illuminates 
the  whole  temple  of  love,  which  is  indeed  the  holy 
of  holies  of  the  temple  of  life. 

John  Harrington,  through  five  and  thirty  years 
of  his  life,  had  believed  that  the  patient  labor  of  a 
powerful  intellect  could  suffice  to  a  man,  in  its  re 
sults,  for  the  attainment  of  all  that  humanity  most 
honors,  even  for  the  wise  and  unerring  government 
of  humanity  itself.  To  that  end  and  in  that  be 
lief  he  had  honestly  given  every  energy  he  pos 
sessed,  and  had  sternly  choked  down  every  tend 
ency  he  felt  in  his  inner  nature  toward  a  life  less 
intellectual  and  more  full  of  sympathy  for  the 
affairs  of  individual  mankind.  With  him  to  be 
strong  was  to  be  cold  —  to  be  warm  was  to  be  weak 
and  subject  to  error ;  a  supreme  devotion  to  his 
career  and  a  supreme  disdain  of  all  personal  affec 
tions  were  the  conditions  of  success  which  he 
deemed  foremostly  necessary,  and  he  had  come  to 
an  almost  superstitious  belief  in  the  idea  that  the 
love  of  woman  is  the  destruction  of  the  intellectual 
man.  Himself  ready  to  sacrifice  all  he  possessed, 
and  to  spend  his  last  strength  in  the  struggle  for 
an  ideal,  he  had  nevertheless  so  identified  his  own 
person  with  the  object  he  strove  to  attain  that  he 
regarded  all  the  means  he  could  possibly  control 
with  as  much  jealousy  as  though  he  had  been  the 
most  selfish  of  men.  Friends  he  looked  upon  as 


330  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

tools  for  his  trade,  and  he  valued  them  not  only  in 
proportion  to  their  honesty  and  loyalty  of  heart, 
but  also  in  the  degree  of  their  power  and  intelli 
gence.  He  sought  no  friendships  which  could  not 
help  him,  and  relinquished  none  that  could  be  of 
service  in  the  future. 

But  the  world  is  not  ruled  by  intellect,  though 
it  is  sometimes  governed  by  brute  force  and  yet 
more  brutal  passions.  The  dominant  power  in  the 
affairs  of  men  is  the  heart.  Humanity  is  moved 
far  more  by  what  it  feels  than  by  what  it  knows, 
and  those  who  would  be  rulers  of  men  must  be 
fore  all  things  be  men  themselves,  and  not  merely 
highly  finished  intellectual  machines. 

The  guests  were  gone,  no  one  had  missed  Har 
rington  and  Joe,  and  Ronald  and  Sybil  had  gone 
into  the  house.  They  sat  side  by  side  in  the  little 
bower  at  the  end  of  the  long  walk — Joe's  fair 
head  resting  in  her  unconsciousness  upon  John's 
shoulder.  Presently  she  stirred,  and  opening  her 
eyes,  looked  up  into  his  face.  She  drew  gently 
away  from  him,  and  a  warm  blush  spread  quickly 
over  her  pale  cheek ;  she  glanced  down  at  her  small 
white  hands  and  they  clasped  each  other  convul 
sively. 

John  looked  at  her ;  suddenly  his  gray  eyes  grew 
dark  and  deep,  and  the  mighty  passion  took  all  his 
strength  into  its  own,  so  that  he  trembled  and 
turned  pale  again.  But  the  words  failed  him  no 
longer  now.  He  knew  in  a  moment  all  that  he 
had  to  say,  and  he  said  it. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  331 

"  You  must  not  be  angry  with  me,  Miss  Thorn," 
he  began,  "you  must  not  think  I  am  losing  my 
head.  Let  me  tell  you  now  —  perhaps  you  will 
listen  to  me.  God  knows,  I  am  not  worthy  to  say 
such  things  to  you,  but  I  will  try  to  be.  It  is 
soon  said.  I  love  you ;  I  can  no  more  help  loving 
you  than  I  can  help  breathing.  You  have  utterly 
changed  me,  and  saved  me,  and  made  a  life  for  me 
out  of  what  was  not  life  at  all.  Do  not  think  it  is 
sudden  —  what  is  really  to  last  forever  must  take 
some  time  in  growing.  I  never  knew  till  to-day  — 
I  honored  you  and  would  have  done  everything  in 
the  world  for  you,  and  I  was  more  grateful  to  you 
than  I  ever  was  to  any  human  being.  But  I  thought 
when  we  met  we  should  be  friends  just  as  we  al 
ways  were,  and  instead  of  that  I  know  that  this  is 
the  great  day  of  my  life,  and  that  my  life  with 
all  that  it  holds  is  yours  now,  for  always,  to  do 
with  as  you  will.  Pray  hear  me  out,  do  not  be 
afraid  ;  no  man  ever  honored  you  as  I  honor  you." 

Joe  glanced  quickly  at  him  and  then  again 
looked  down ;  but  the  surging  blood  came  and 
went  in  her  face,  coursing  madly  in  her  pulses, 
every  beat  of  her  heart  crying  gladness. 

"  It  is  little  enough  I  have  to  offer  you,"  said 
John,  his  voice  growing  unsteady  in  the  great  ef 
fort  to  speak  calmly.  There  was  something  almost 
terrible  in  the  strength  of  his  rising  passion.  "  It 
is  little  enough  —  my  poor  life,  with  its  wretched 
struggles  after  what  is  perhaps  far  too  great  for 
me.  But  such  as  it  is  I  offer  it  to  you. 


332  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

it  if  you  will.  Be  my  wife,  and  give  me  the  right 
to  do  all  I  do  for  your  sake,  and  for  your  sake 
only."  He  stretched  out  his  hand  and  took  hers, 
very  gently,  but  the  strained  sinews  of  his  wrist 
trembled  violently.  Josephine  made  no  resistance, 
but  she  still  looked  down  and  said  nothing. 

"  Use  me  as  you  will,"  he  continued  almost  in  a 
whisper.  "  I  will  be  all  to  you  that  man  ever  was 
to  a  living  woman.  Do  not  say  I  have  no  right  to 
ask  you  for  as  much.  I  have  this  right,  that  I  love 
you  beyond  the  love  of  other  men,  so  truly  and 
wholly  I  love  you  ;  I  will  serve  you  so  faithfully, 
I  will  honor  you  so  loyally  that  you  will  love  me 
too.  Say  the  word,  my  beloved,  say  that  it  is 
not  impossible  !  I  will  wait  —  I  will  work  —  I 
will  strive  to  be  worthy  of  you."  He  pressed  his 
white  lips  to  her  white  hand,  and  tried  to  look  into 
her  eyes,  but  she  turned  away  from  him.  "  Will 
you  not  speak  to  me  ?  Will  you  not  give  to  me 
some  word  —  some  hope  ?  I  can  never  love  you 
less,  whatever  you  may  answer  me  —  yes  or  no  — 
but  oh,  if  you  knew  the  difference  to  me ! " 

Pale  as  death,  John  looked  at  Joe.  She  turned 
to  him,  very  white,  and  gazed  into  the  dark  gray 
depths  of  his  eyes,  where  the  raging  force  of  a 
transcendent  passion  played  so  wildly ;  but  she  felt 
no  fear,  only  a  mad  longing  to  speak. 

"  Tell  me  —  for  God's  sake  tell  me,"  John  said 
in  low,  trembling  tones,  "  have  I  hurt  you  ?  Is  it 
too  much  that  I  ask  ?  " 

For  one  moment  there  was  silence  as  they  gazed 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  333 

at  each  other.  Then  with  a  passionate  impulse 
Josephine  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  upon 
John's  shoulder. 

"  No,  it  is  not  that  I "  she  sobbed.     "  I  love  you 
so  much  —  I  have  loved  you  so  long  I " 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

JOHN  HARRINGTON  and  Josephine  Thorn  were 
married  in  the  autumn  of  that  year,  and  six  months 
later  John  was  elected  to  the  Senate.  With  char 
acteristic  patience  he  determined  to  await  a  favor 
able  opportunity  before  speaking  at  any  length  in 
the  Capitol.  He  loved  his  new  life,  and  the  in 
stinct  to  take  a  leading  part  was  strong  in  him, 
but  he  knew  too  well  the  importance  of  the  first 
impression  made  by  a  long  speech  to  thrust  himself 
forward  until  the  right  moment  came. 

It  chanced  that  the  presidential  election  took 
place  in  that  year,  just  a  twelvemonth  after  John's 
marriage,  and  the  unusual  occurrences  that  at 
tended  the  struggle  gave  him  the  chance  he  de 
sired.  Three  candidates  were  supported  nearly 
equally  by  the  Eas£,  the  West,  and  the  South,  and 
on  opening  the  sealed  documents  in  the  presence 
of  the  two  houses,  it  was  found  that  no  one  of  the 
three  had  obtained  the  majority  necessary  to  elect 
him.  The  country  was  in  a  state  of  unparalleled 
agitation.  The  imminent  danger  was  that  the  non- 
election  of  the  candidate  from  the  West  would  pro 
duce  a  secession  of  the  Western  States  from  the 
Union,  in  the  same  way  that  a  revolution  was 
nearly  brought  about  in  1876,  during  the  contest 
between  Mr.  Hayes  and  Mr.  Tilden. 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  335 

In  this  position  of  affairs,  the  electors  being  un- 
able  to  agree  upon  any  one  of  the  three  candi 
dates,  the  election  was  thrown  into  the  hands  of 
Congress,  in  accordance  with  the  clause  of  the 
Constitution  which  provides  that  in  such  cases  the 
House  of  Representatives  shall  elect  a  president, 
each  State  having  but  one  vote. 

Harrington  had  made  many  speeches  in  different 
parts  of  the  country  during  the  election  campaign, 
and  had  attracted  much  attention  by  his  calm  good 
sense  in  such  excited  times.  There  was  conse 
quently  a  manifest  desire  among  senators  and 
representatives  to  hear  him  speak  in  the  Capitol, 
and  upon  the  day  when  the  final  election  of  the 
President  took  place  he  judged  that  his  opportu 
nity  had  come.  Josephine  was  in  the  ladies'  gal 
lery,  and  as  John  rose  to  his  feet  he  looked  long 
and  fixedly  up  to  her,  gathering  more  strength  to 
do  well  what  he  so  much  loved  to  do,  from  gazing 
at  her  whom  he  loved  better  than  power,  or  fame, 
or  any  earthly  thing.  His  eyes  shone  and  his  cheek 
paled ;  his  old  life  with  all  its  energy  and  active 
work  was  associated  in  his  mind  with  failure,  with 
discontent,  and  with  solitude  ;  his  new  life,  with 
her  by  his  side,  was  brilliant,  happy,  and  success 
ful.  He  felt  within  him  the  strength  to  move 
thousands,  the  faith  in  his  cause  and  in  his  power 
to  help  it  which  culminates  in  great  deeds.  His 
strong  voice  rang  out,  clear  and  far-heard,  as  he 
spoke. 

"  MB.  PRESIDENT,  —  We  are  here  to  decide,  on 


336  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

behalf  of  our  country,  a  great  matter.  Many  of  us, 
many  more  who  are  scattered  over  the  land,  will 
look  back  upon  this  day  as  one  of  the  most  impor 
tant  in  our  times,  and  for  their  sakes  as  well  as  our 
own  we  are  bound  to  summon  all  our  strength  of 
intelligence  and  all  our  calmness  of  judgment  to 
aid  us  in  our  decision. 

"The  question  in  which  a  certain  number  of 
ourselves  are  to  become  arbitrators  is  briefly  this : 
Are  we  to  act  on  this  occasion  like  partisans,  strain 
ing  every  nerve  for  the  advantage  of  our  several 
parties  ?  or  are  we  to  act  like  free  men,  exerting 
our  united  forces  in  one  harmonious  body  for  the 
immediate  good  of  the  whole  country  ?  The  strug 
gle  may  seem  at  first  sight  to  be  a  battle  between 
the  East,  the  West,  and  the  South.  In  sober  earn 
est,  it  is  a  contest  between  the  changing  principles 
of  party  politics  on  the  one  hand  and  the  undying 
principle  of  freedom  on  the  other. 

"  I  need  not  make  any  long  statement  of  the  case 
to  you.  We  are  here  assembled  to  elect  a  Presi 
dent.  Our  position  is  almost  unprecedented  in  the 
history  of  the  country.  Instead  of  acquiescing  in 
the  declared  will  of  the  people,  our  fellow-citizens, 
we  are  told  that  the  people's  wish  is  divided,  and 
we  are  called  upon  to  act  spontaneously  for  the  peo 
ple,  in  accordance  with  the  constitution  of  our  coun 
try.  By  our  individual  and  unhampered  votes  the 
life  of  the  country  is  to  be  determined  for  the  next 
four  years.  Let  us  not  forget  the  vast  responsi 
bility  that  is  upon  us.  Let  us  join  our  hands  and 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  337 

say  to  each  other,  'We  are  no  longer  Repub 
licans,  nor  Democrats,  nor  Independents  —  we  are 
one  party,  the  party  of  the  Union,  and  there  are 
none  against  us.' 

"A  partisan  is  not  necessarily  a  man  who  as 
serts  a  truth  and  defends  it  with  his  whole  strength. 
A  partisan  means  one  who  takes  up  his  position 
with  a  party.  There  is  a  limit  where  a  partisan 
becomes  an  asserter  of  falsehood,  and  that  limit 
is  reached  when  a  man  resigns  his  own  principles 
into  the  judgment  of  another,  his  conscience  into 
another's  keeping ;  when  a  man  gives  up  free 
thought,  free  judgment,  and  free  will  in  absolute 
and  blind  adherence  to  a  set  of  thoughts,  judg 
ments,  and  decisions  over  which  he  exercises  no  con 
trol,  and  in  the  formation  of  which  he  has  but  one 
voice  in  many  millions.  Every  one  remembers 
the  fable  of  the  old  man  who,  when  dying,  made 
his  sons  break  their  staves  one  by  one,  and  then 
bade  them  bind  a  bundle  of  others  together,  and  to 
try  and  break  them  by  one  effort.  In  the  uniting 
of  individuals  in  a  party  there  is  strength,  but  there 
must  also  be  complete  unity.  If  the  old  man  had 
bidden  his  sons  bind  their  staves  in  several  bundles 
instead  of  in  one,  the  result  would  have  been  doubt 
ful.  That  is  what  party  spirit  makes  men  do. 
Party  spirit  is  a  universal  solvent ;  it  is  the  great 
acid,  the  aqua  fortis  of  political  alchemy,  which 
eats  through  bands  of  steel  and  corrodes  pillars  of 
iron  in  its  acrid  virulence,  till  the  whole  engine  of 
a  nation's  government  is  crumbled  and  dissolved 
22 


338  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN, 

into  a  shapeless  and  a  worse  than  useless  mass  of 
broken  metal. 

"  Man  is  free,  his  will  is  free,  his  choice,  his 
judgments,  his  capacity  for  thought,  and  his  power 
to  profit  by  it  are  all  as  free  as  air,  just  so  long  as 
he  remembers  that  they  are  his  own  —  no  longer. 
When  he  forgets  that  he  is  his  own  master,  ab 
solutely  and  entirely,  he  becomes  another  man's 
slave. 

"  The  contest  here  is  between  political  passion 
roused  to  its  fiercest  pitch  by  the  antagonism  of 
parties,  and  the  universal  liberty  of  opinion,  which 
we  all  say  we  possess,  while  so  few  of  us  dare  hon 
estly  exercise  it.  This  passion,  this  political  frenzy 
that  seizes  men  and  whirls  them  in  its  eddies,  is  a 
most  singular  compound  of  patriotism,  of  enthusi 
asm  for  an  individual,  and  of  the  personal  hopes, 
fears,  generosity,  and  avarice  of  the  individual  who 
is  enthusiastic.  It  is  a  passion  which,  existing  in 
others,  can  be  turned  to  account  by  the  cool  leader 
who  does  not  possess  it,  but  which  may  too  easily 
bring  ruin  upon  the  man  who  is  led. 

"  The  danger  ahead  is  this  same  party  spirit,  this 
wild  and  thoughtless  frenzy  in  matters  where  un 
biased  judgment  is  most  of  all  necessary.  It  is  a 
rock  upon  which  we  have  split  before  ;  it  has  taken 
us  many  years  to  recover  from  the  shock,  and  now 
we  are  in  danger  of  altogether  losing  our  political 
life  upon  the  same  reef.  Unless  we  mend  our 
course  we  inevitably  shall.  Men  forego  every  con 
sideration  of  public  honor  and  private  conscience 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  339 

for  the  sake  of  electing  a  party  candidate.  The 
man  at  the  helm  of  the  party  ship  has  declared 
that  he  will  sail  due  north,  or  south,  or  east,  or 
west,  whatever  happens,  and  his  crew  laugh  to 
gether  and  keep  no  lookout ;  they  even  feel  a  cer 
tain  pride  in  their  leader,  who  thus  defies  the  ac 
cidents  of  nature  for  the  sake  of  sailing  in  a  fixed 
direction. 

"  What  is  the  result  of  all  this  ?  It  is  here 
before  us.  The  country  is  splitting  into  parties. 
Three  candidates  are  set  up  for  the  office  of  Presi« 
dent.  Three  distinct  parties  stand  in  the  field, 
each  one  vowing  vengeance,  secession,  revolution, 
utter  dismemberment  of  the  Union,  unless  its 
chosen  champion  is  elected  to  be  chief  of  the  Ex 
ecutive  Department.  Is  this  to  be  the  life  of  our 
Republic  in  future  ?  Is  this  all  that  so  many 
millions  of  free  citizens  can  do  for  the  public  good 
and  for  public  harmony  ?  What  shall  we  gain 
by  electing  the  candidate  from  the  North,  if  the 
defeated  candidate  from  the  South  is  determined 
to  produce  a  revolution  ;  and  if  the  disappointed 
candidate  from  the  West  threatens  to  touch  off  the 
dry  powder  and  spring  the  mine  of  a  great  west 
ern  secession  ?  Have  we  not  seen  all  this  before  ? 
Has  not  the  bitter  cry  of  a  nation's  broken  heart 
gone  up  to  heaven  already  in  mortal  agony  fo? 
these  very  things  to  which  our  uncontrollable  polit 
ical  passions  are  hourly  leading  us? 

"  The  contest  is  between  political  passion  on  the 
one  hand  and  universal  liberty  on  the  other. 


340  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  Liberty  in  some  countries  is  a  kind  of  charade 
word,  an  anagram,  a  symbol  representing  an  im 
aginary  quantity,  a  password  invented  by  unhappy 
men  to  express  all  that  they  do  not  possess ;  a  term 
meaning  in  the  minds  of  slaves  a  conglomerate  of 
conditions  so  absurd,  of  aspirations  so  futile,  of 
imaginary  delights  so  fantastically  unreasonable, 
that  if  the  ideal  state  of  which  the  chained  dream 
ers  rave  were  realized  but  for  one  moment,  human 
ity  would  start  in  amazement  at  the  first  glimpse 
of  so  much  monstrosity,  and  by  and  by  would  hold 
its  sides  with  laughter  at  the  folly  of  its  deluded 
fellows.  In  most  countries  where  liberty  is  talked 
of  it  is  but  a  dream,  and  such  a  dream  as  could 
only  occur  to  the  sickened  fancy  of  a  generation 
of  bondsmen.  But  it  means  something  else  with 
us.  It  is  here,  in  this  country,  in  this  capital,  in 
this  hall,  it  is  in  the  air  we  breathe,  in  the  light 
we  see,  in  the  strong,  free  pulses  of  our  blood  ;  it 
is  the  heritage  of  men  whose  sires  died  for  it, 
whose  fathers  laid  down  all  they  had  for  it,  of  men 
whose  own  veins  have  bled  for  it  —  and  not  in  vain. 
In  these  United  States,  liberty  is  a  fact. 

"  We  must  decide  quickly,  then,  between  the 
conditions  of  our  liberty  and  the  requirements  of 
frantic  political  passion.  We  must  decide  between 
peace  and  war,  for  that  is  where  the  issue  will  come 
in  the  end.  Between  freedom,  prosperity,  and 
peace  on  the  one  side,  and  a  civil  war  on  the  other ; 
an  alternative  so  horrible  and  inhuman  and  hid 
eous,  that  the  very  mention  of  it  makes  brave  men 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  341 

shiver  in  disgust  at  the  memories  the  word  recalla 
Do  you  think  we  are  much  further  from  it  now 
than  we  were  in  1860?  Do  you  think  we  were  far 
from  it  in  1876  ?  It  is  a  short  step  from  the  threat 
to  the  deed  when  political  passion  is  already  turn 
ing  to  bitter  personal  hate. 

"  In  our  times  there  is  much  talk  of  civiliza 
tion  and  culture.  Two  words  define  all  that  is 
necessary  to  be  known  about  them.  Civilization 
is  peace.  The  uncivilized  state  of  man  is  incessant 
war.  Culture  is  conscience,  because  conscience 
means  the  exercise  of  honest  judgment,  and  an 
ignorant  people  can  form  no  honest  judgment  of 
their  own  which  can  be  exercised. 

"  In  a  state  of  peace,  educated  and  truthful  men 
judge  fairly,  and  act  sensibly  on  their  decisions. 
In  other  words,  the  majority  is  right  and  free.  In 
times  of  war  and  in  times  of  great  ignorance  ma 
jorities  have  rarely  been  either  free  or  right. 

"  It  is  a  bad  sign  of  the  times  when  education 
increases  and  truth  disappears.  They  ought  to 
grow  together,  for  education  means  absolutely  noth 
ing  but  the  teaching  and  learning  of  what  is  true. 
If  it  does  not  mean  that,  it  means  nothing.  In 
some  countries  the  idea  of  truth  is  coexistent  with 
the  idea  of  destroying  all  existing  forms  of  belief. 
Some  silly  person  recently  went  so  far  as  to  raise 
the  cry  in  this  country,  '  Separate  Church  and 
State  ! '  If  there  is  a  country  where  they  are  abso 
lutely  separated,  it  is  ours ;  but  let  the  beliefs  of 
mankind  take  care  of  themselves.  I  dare  say 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

there  will  be  Christians  left  in  the  world  even  when 
Professor  Huxley  has  written  his  last  book,  and 
when  Colonel  Ingersoll  has  delivered  his  last  lec 
ture.  I  am  reminded  of  the  Chinese  philosopher 
and  political  economist,  who  answered  when  he 
was  asked  about  religious  matters  :  '  Do  you  un 
derstand  this  world  so  well  that  you  need  occupy 
yourselves  with  another  ?  ' 

"The  issue  turns  upon  no  such  absurdities, 
neither  does  it  rest  with  any  consideration  of  so- 
called  platforms  —  free  trade,  civil  service,  free 
navigation,  tariff  reform,  and  all  the  rest  of  those 
things.  The  real  issue  is  between  civilization  and 
barbarism,  between  peace  and  war. 

"  Be  warned  in  this  great  strait.  I  believe  we 
need  few  principles,  but  universal  ones.  I  believe 
in  the  republic  because  it  was  founded  in  sim 
plicity,  and  has  been  built  up  in  strength  by  the 
strongest  of  strong  men ;  because  its  existence 
proves  the  greatest  truth  with  which  we  ever  have 
to  do,  namely,  that  men  are  born  equal  and  free, 
although  they  may  grow  up  slaves  to  their  evil  pas 
sions,  and  become  greater  or  less  according  as  they 
manfully  put  their  hands  to  the  plough,  or  ignobly 
lie  down  and  let  themselves  be  trampled  upon. 
The  battle  of  life  is  to  the  stronger,  but  no  man  is 
so  weak  that  he  cannot  raise  himself  a  little  if  he 
will,  according  to  the  abilities  that  are  born  in 
him ;  and  nowhere  can  he  raise  himself  so  speedily 
and  securely  as  on  this  free  soil  of  ours.  Nowhere 
can  he  go  so  far  without  being  molested ;  for  no- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  343 

where  can  man  put  himself  so  closely  and  trust 
fully  in  the  keeping  of  nature,  certain  that  she  will 
not  fail  him,  certain  that  she  will  yield  him  a  thou 
sandfold  for  his  labor. 

"There  are  indeed  times  in  the  history  of  a  great 
institution  when  it  is  just  as  well  as  necessary  to 
reconsider  the  principles  upon  which  it  is  founded. 
There  are  times  in  the  life  of  a  great  nation  when 
it  behooves  her  chief  men  to  examine  and  see 
whether  the  basis  of  her  constitution  is  a  sound 
one,  and  whether  she  can  continue  to  grow  great 
without  any  change  in  the  fundamental  conditions 
of  her  development.  It  is  a  bad  and  a  dangerous 
time  for  a  growing  nation,  but  it  is  an  almost  in 
evitable  stage  in  her  life.  Thank  God,  that  time 
is  past  with  us  !  Let  us  not  think  of  the  possibility 
of  exposing  ourselves  again  to  civil  war  as  an  alter 
native  against  retrogression  into  barbarism. 

"Civilization  is  peace,  and  to  extend  civilization 
is  to  increase  the  security  of  property  in  the  world 
—  of  property  and  life  and  conscience.  The  nat 
ural  and  barbarous  state  of  man  is  that  where  the 
human  animal  satisfies  its  cravings  without  any 
thought  of  consequences.  The  cultivated  state  is 
that  where  humanity  has  ceased  to  be  merely  ani 
mal,  and  considers  the  consequences  first  and  the 
cravings  afterwards.  Civilization  unites  men  so 
that  they  dwell  together  in  harmony;  to  separate 
them  into  parties  that  strive  to  annihilate  each 
other  is  to  undo  the  work  of  civilization,  to  plunge 
the  state  into  civil  war;  to  hew  it  in  pieces,  and 


344  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

split  it  and  tear  it  to  shreds,  till  the  magnificent 
body  of  thinking  beings,  acting  as  one  man  for  the 
public  good,  is  reduced  to  the  miserable  condition 
of  a  handful  of  hostile  tribes,  whose  very  existence 
depends  upon  successful  robbery  and  well-timed 
violence. 

"  Party  spirit,  so  long  as  it  is  only  a  force  which 
binds  together  a  number  of  men  of  honest  pur 
poses  and  opinions,  is  a  good  thing,  and  it  is  by  its 
means  that  just  and  powerful  majorities  are  formed 
and  guided.  But  where  party  spirit  loses  sight  of 
the  characters  of  men,  and  judges  them  according 
as  they  are  Republicans  or  Democrats,  instead  of 
considering  whether  they  are  good  or  bad  citizens ; 
when  party  spirit  becomes  a  machine  for  obtaining 
power  by  fair  or  foul  means,  instead  of  a  fixed 
principle  for  upholding  the  fair  against  the  foul  — 
then  there  is  great  danger  that  the  majority  itself 
is  losing  its  liberty,  and  upon  the  liberty  of  ma 
jorities  depends  ultimately  the  stability  and  pros 
perity  of  the  republic. 

"  Consider  what  is  the  history  of  the  average 
politician  to-day,  of  the  man  whose  personal  char 
acter  is  as  good  as  that  of  his  neighbor,  who  has 
always  belonged  to  the  same  party,  and  who  looks 
forward  to  the  hope  of  political  distinction.  Con 
sider  how  he  has  struggled  through  all  manner  of 
difficulties  to  his  present  position,  striving  always 
to  maintain  good  relations  with  the  chiefs  of  his 
party,  while  often  acknowledging  in  his  heart  that 
he  would  act  differently  were  his  connection  with 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  345 

those  chiefs  a  matter  of  less  vital  importance  to 
himself.  He  probably  will  tell  you  that  his  pro 
fession  is  politics.  He  has  sacrificed  much  to  ob 
tain  his  seat  in  Congress,  or  his  position  in  office, 
and  he  knows  that  henceforth  he  must  live  by  it 
or  else  begin  life  over  again  in  another  sphere. 
At  all  events,  for  a  term  of  years,  his  personal 
prosperity  depends  upon  the  use  he  can  make  of 
his  hold  upon  the  public  goods.  He  is  not  indi 
vidually  to  be  blamed,  perhaps,  for  he  follows  a 
precedent  as  widely  recognized  as  it  is  universally 
pernicious.  It  is  the  system  that  is  to  be  blamed, 
the  general  belief  that  a  man  can,  and  justly  may, 
support  himself  by  clinging  to  a  set  of  principles 
of  which  he  does  not  honestly  approve ;  that  he 
may  earn  his  daily  meal,  since  it  comes  to  that  in 
the  end,  by  doing  jobs  which  in  the  free  state  he 
would  despise  as  unworthy,  and  by  speaking  boldly 
in  support  of  measures  which  he  knows  to  be  in 
jurious  to  the  welfare  of  the  country.  That  is  the 
history,  the  epitome  of  the  ends  and  aims  and  man 
ner  of  being  of  the  average  politician  in  our  day. 
He  has  ventured  into  the  waters  of  political  life, 
and  they  have  risen  around  him  till  he  must  use 
all  his  strength  in  keeping  his  head  above  them, 
though  the  torrent  carry  him  whither  it  will  aad 
whither  he  would  not.  There  are  no  compromises 
when  a  man  is  drowning. 

"  There  are  many  who  are  not  in  any  such  posi 
tion.  There  are  men  great  and  honest,  and  disin 
terested  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word  —  men 


846  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

whose  whole  lives  prove  it,  whose  whole  record 
is  one  of  honor  and  truth,  whose  following  con 
sists  of  men  they  have  themselves  chosen  as  their 
friends.  We  are  not  obliged  to  select  a  drowning 
man  for  our  President ;  we  can  choose  a  man  who 
stands  on  his  own  feet  upon  dry  ground. 

"  There  is  an  old  proverb  which  contains  much 
wisdom  :  '  Tell  me  who  are  your  friends,  and  I 
will  tell  you  what  you  are.'  Is  a  man  fit  to  stand 
at  the  head  of  a  community  of  men  when  he  has 
associated  with  a  set  of  parasites,  who  live  upon 
his  leavings,  and  will  starve  him  if  they  can,  in 
order  to  enjoy  his  portion  ?  Consider  what  is  the 
position  of  the  President  of  the  United  States. 
Think  what  vast  power  is  placed  in  the  hands  of 
one  man  ;  what  vast  interests  of  public  and  pri 
vate  good  are  at  stake  ;  what  an  endless  sequence 
of  events  and  results  of  events  must  follow  upon 
the  individual  action  of  the  chief  of  the  Executive 
Department ;  and  remember  how  free  and  untrain- 
meled  that  individual  action  is.  A  people  who 
elect  an  officer  to  such  a  position  need  surely  to  be 
cautious  in  their  choice  and  circumspect  in  their 
judgment  of  the  man  elected.  They  must  satisfy 
themselves  about  what  he  is  likely  to  do  by  judg 
ing  honestly  what  he  has  done ;  they  must  know 
who  are  his  friends,  his  supporters,  his  advisers,  in 
order  to  judge  of  the  friends  he  will  make.  They 
must  take  into  their  consideration  also  the  char 
acter  of  his  colleague,  the  vice-president,  and  the 
effect  upon  the  country  and  the  country's  relation 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  347 

with  the  world,  should  any  disaster  suddenly  throw 
the  vice-president  into  office.  We  cannot  afford 
to  elect  a  vice-president  who  would  destroy  the  na 
tional  credit  in  a  week,  should  the  President  him 
self  be  overtaken  by  death.  We  must  remember 
to  count  the  cost  of  what  we  are  doing,  not  pass 
ing  over  one  item  because  another  item  seems  just. 
We  cannot  overlook  the  future,  nor  disregard  the 
influence  which  our  election  has  upon  the  next ; 
the  steps  which  men,  once  in  office-  may  take  in 
order  to  secure  to  themselves  another  term,  or  to 
strengthen  the  position  of  the  men  whom  they  de 
sire  to  succeed  them. 

"  In  a  word,  we  must  put  forth  all  our  strength. 
\\^e  must  be  cool,  far-sighted,  and  impartial  in 
such  times  as  these.  And  yet,  how  has  this  cam 
paign  been  hitherto  conducted?  Practically,  by 
raising  a  party  cry ;  by  exciting  every  species  of 
evil  passion  of  which  man  is  capable  ;  by  tickling 
the  cupidity  of  one  man  and  flattering  the  ambi 
tions  of  another ;  by  intimidating  the  weak,  and 
groveling  before  the  strong  ;  by  every  species  of 
fawning  sycophancy  on  the  one  hand,  and  brutal 
overbearing  bullying  on  the  other. 

"  Party,  party,  party !  A  man  would  rather 
commit  a  crime  than  vote  against  his  party.  The 
evil  runs  through  the  country  from  East  to  West, 
from  North  to  South,  eating  at  the  nation's  heart 
strings,  gnawing  at  her  sinews,  and  undermining 
her  strength.  The  time  is  coming,  is  even  now 
come,  when  two  or  three  parties  no  longer  suffice 


348  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

to  express  the  disunion  of  the  Union.  There  are 
three  to-day :  to-morrow  there  will  be  five,  the 
next  day  ten,  twenty,  a  hundred,  till  every  man's 
hand  is  against  his  fellow,  and  his  fellow's  against 
him.  The  divisions  have  grown  so  wide  that  the 
majority  and  the  minority  are  but  the  extremities 
of  a  countless  set  of  internecine  majorities  and 
minorities. 

"  Members  of  parties  are  bound  no  longer  by 
the  honest  determination  to  do  the  right,  to  choose 
the  right,  and  to  uphold  the  right  —  they  are 
bound  by  fearful  penalties  to  support  their  own 
man,  were  he  the  very  chiefest  outcast  of  the  earth, 
lest  the  man  of  another  party  be  elected  in  his 
place.  The  adverse  candidate  is  perhaps  avowedly 
better  fitted  for  the  office,  a  hundred  times  more 
honest,  more  experienced,  more  worthy  of  respect. 
But  he  belongs  to  the  enemy.  Down  with  him ! 
let  him  perish  in  his  honesty  and  righteousness ! 
There  is  no  good  in  him,  for  he  is  a  Democrat ! 
There  is  no  good  in  him,  for  he  is  a  Republican  ! 
He  is  a  scoundrel,  for  he  is  a  Southerner  !  He  is 
a  thief,  for  he  is  a  Northerner !  He  is  the  prince 
of  liars,  for  he  comes  from  the  West !  He  is  the 
scum  of  mankind,  for  he  is  from  the  East !  The 
people  rage  and  rend  each  other,  and  the  frenzy 
grows  apace  with  the  hour,  till  honor  and  justice, 
truth  and  manliness,  are  lost  together  in  the  furi 
ous  chaos  of  human  elements.  The  tortured  airs 
of  heaven  howl  out  curses  in  a  horrid  unison,  this 
fair  free  soil  of  ours,  dishonored  and  befouled, 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  349 

moans  beneath  our  feet  in  a  dismal  drone  of  hope 
less  woe;  there  is  no  rock  or  cavern  or  ghostly 
den  of  our  mighty  land  but  hisses  back  the  echo 
of  some  hideous  curse,  and  hell  itself  is  upon  earth, 
split  and  rent  into  multiplied  hells. 

"  And  the  ultimate  expression  of  the  senses  of 
these  things  is  money.  There  is  the  chiefest  dis 
grace.  We  are  not  worse  than  the  old  nations, 
but  we  have  a  right  to  be  very  much  better  ;  we 
have  the  obligation  to  be  better,  the  unchanging 
moral  obligation  which  lies  upon  every  man  to  use 
the  advantage  he  has.  We  alone  among  nations 
are  free,  we  alone  among  nations  inhabit  a  quarter 
of  the  world  by  ourselves,  and  live  and  grow  great 
in  our  own  way  with  no  thought  of  the  rest.  Let 
us*  think  more  of  living  greatly  than  of  prosecuting 
greatness  for  the  sake  of  its  pecuniary  emolu 
ments.  Let  us  elect  presidents  who  will  give  their 
efforts  to  making  us  all  great  together,  and  not  to 
making  some  citizens  rich  at  the  expense  of  others 
who  are  also  citizens.  A  President  can  do  much 
toward  either  of  these  results,  bad  or  good.  He 
has  the  future  of  the  republic  in  his  hands,  as 
well  as  the  present.  Let  us  be  the  richest  among 
nations,  since  the  course  of  events  makes  us  so, 
but  let  us  not  be  the  most  sordid.  Let  it  never  be 
said,  in  the  land  which  has  given  birth  to  the  only 
true  liberty  the  world  has  ever  seen,  that  liberty 
can  be  sold  for  a  few  dollars  in  the  market-place, 
and  bartered  against  the  promise  of  four  years  of 
civil  employment  at  a  small  salary ! 


350  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"  This  party  spirit,  this  miserable  craving  for  the 
good  things  that  may  be  extracted  from  the  service 
of  a  party,  has  produced  the  crying  evil  of  our 
times.  A  certain  class  —  a  very  large  class  —  call 
our  politics  dirty,  and  our  politicians  dishonest. 
Young  men  whose  education  and  position  in  the 
commonwealth  entitle  them  to  a  voice  in  public 
matters  withdraw  entirely  from  all  contact  with 
the  real  life  of  the  country.  Liberty  has  become 
a  leper,  a  blind  outcast  in  the  eyes  of  the  gilded 
youth  of  to-day.  She  sits  apart  in  ashes  and  in 
rags,  and  asks  a  little  charity  of  the  richest  of  her 
children  —  a  miserable  mother  despised  and  cast 
out  by  her  sons.  They  will  not  own  her  for  their 
mother,  nor  spare  one  crust  to  feed  her  from  their 
plenty.  They  pass  by  on  the  other  side,  staring 
in  admiration  at  the  image  they  have  set  up  for 
themselves  —  the  image  of  what  they  consider  so 
cial  excellence,  an  idol  compounded  of  decayed 
customs,  and  breathing  the  poisonous  emanations 
of  a  dead  world,  a  monument  raised  to  the  preju 
dices  of  former  times,  to  the  petty  thirst  for  aris 
tocratic  distinctions  which  they  cherish  in  their 
hearts,  to  their  love  of  money,  show,  superficial 
culture,  and  armorial  bearings. 

"  Truly  let  them  perish  in  the  fruition  of  their 
contemptible  desires !  Let  them  set  up  a  thing 
called  society  and  worship  it ;  let  them  lose  them 
selves  in  the  contemplation  of  objects  whose  beauty 
they  can  never  appreciate  save  by  counting  the 
cost ;  let  them  disgrace  the  names  their  honest 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  351 

fathers  bore,  by  striving  to  establish  their  descent 
from  houses  stained  with  crime  and  defiled  with 
blood  ;  let  them  disown  their  fathers  and  spit  in 
their  mothers'  faces,  —  but  let  them  not  call  them 
selves  free,  nor  give  themselves  the  airs  of  men. 
They  toss  their  foolish  heads  in  scorn  of  all  that 
a  man  holds  truest  and  best.  We  can  afford  to 
let  them  speak,  if  they  please,  even  words  of  con 
tempt  and  dishonor ;  we  can  afford  to  let  them  say 
that  in  laboring  for  our  country  we  are  groveling 
in  mud  and  defiling  our  hands  with  impurity  ;  but 
we  cannot  afford  to  let  them  steal  our  children 
from  us,  nor  to  submit  to  the  pestilent  influence  of 
their  corruption  in  our  ranks.  Those  who  would 
be  of  the  republic  must  labor  for  the  public  good, 
instead  of  insolently  asserting  that  there  is  no  good 
in  the  public  on  which  they  have  fattened  and 
thriven  so  well. 

"  All  honor  to  those  who  have  set  their  faces 
against  the  growing  evil,  to  check  it  if  they  can, 
and  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  barrier  against 
which  the  tidal  wave  of  corruption  and  dishonesty 
shall  break  in  vain.  All  praise  to  the  brave  men 
who  might  live  in  the  indolent  lotus-eating  atmos 
phere  of  wasteful  idleness,  but  who  have  put  their 
hand  to  the  wheel  of  state,  determined  to  bear  all 
their  might  upon  the  whirling  spokes  rather  than 
see  the  good  ship  go  to  pieces  on  the  rock  ahead. 
They  have  begun  a  good  work,  and  they  have  sown 
a  good  seed ;  they  ask  for  no  reward,  nor  look  for 
the  reaping  of  the  harvest.  They  mean  to  do  right. 


352  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

and  they  do  it,  because  right  is  right,  not  because 
they  expect  to  be  rewarded  with  the  spoils  or  fed 
with  fat  tit-bits  from  the  feast  of  party.  Upon 
such  men  as  these,  be  they  rich  or  poor,  we  must 
rely.  The  poor  man  can  make  sacrifices  as  great 
as  the  rich,  for  he  can  forego  for  his  country's  sake, 
the  promise  of  ease  and  the  hope  of  wealth  as  well 
as  any  million-maker  in  the  land. 

"  In  the  tremendous  issue  now  before  us  we  are 
called  to  decide  upon  the  life  of  the  country  dur 
ing  the  next  four  years.  We  are  chosen  to  direct 
the  course  of  a  stream  from  its  very  source,  and  to 
turn  it  into  a  channel  where  it  will  run  smoothly 
to  the  end.  For  the  four  years  of  an  administra 
tion  are  like  a  river.  The  water  rises  suddenly 
from  the  spring  and  flows  swiftly,  ever  increasing 
in  volume  as  it  is  swollen  by  tributaries  and  ab 
sorbs  into  itself  other  rivers  by  the  way.  It  may 
run  smoothly  in  a  fair  stream,  moistening  barren 
lands  and  softening  the  parched  desert  into  fertil 
ity  ;  moving  great  engines  of  industry  with  a  cease 
less,  even  strength ;  bearing  the  burden  of  a  mighty 
and  prosperous  commerce  on  its  broad  bosom ; 
spreading  plenty  and  refreshment  through  the  wide 
pastures  by  its  banks,  fed  on  its  way  by  waters  so 
clear  that  at  the  last  it  merges  untainted  and  un 
sullied  into  the  ocean,  whence  its  limpid  drops  may 
again  be  taken  up  and  poured  in  soft,  life-giving 
rain  upon  the  earth. 

"  But  in  digging  for  a  spring  men  may  find  sud 
denly  a  torrent  that  they  cannot  control.  It  sud- 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  358 

denly  bursts  its  bounds  and  banks,  and  rushes 
headlong  down,  carrying  everything  before  it  in  a 
resistless  whirl  of  devastation,  tearing  great  trees 
up  by  the  roots,  crashing  through  villages  and 
towns  and  factories,  girding  the  world  with  a  liquid 
tempest  that  sends  the  works  of  man  spinning 
down  upon  its  dreadful  course,  till  it  plunges  into 
the  abyss,  a  frantic  chaos  of  indiscriminate  destruc 
tion,  storm,  and  death. 

"  Can  any  of  us  here  present  say  that  he  will, 
that  he  dare,  take  upon  himself  the  responsibility 
of  electing  a  President  from  motives  of  party  prej 
udice  ?  Having  it  in  our  power  to  agree  upon  the 
very  best  man,  would  any  of  us  remember  this  day 
without  shame  if  we  disgraced  those  who  trust  us, 
by  giving  our  votes  to  a  mere  party  candidate  ? 
The  danger  is  great,  imminent,  universal.  We 
can  save  the  country  from  it,  I  would  almost  say 
from  death  itself,  by  acting  in  accordance  with  our 
honest  convictions.  Is  any  man  so  despicable,  so 
lost  to  honor,  that  in  such  a  case  he  will  put  aside 
the  welfare  of  a  nation  for  the  miserable  sake  of 
party  popularity  ?  Are  we  to  stand  here  in  the 
guise  and  manner  of  free  men,  knowing  that  we  are 
driven  together  like  a  flock  of  sheep  into  the  fold 
by  the  howling  of  the  wolves  outside  ?  Are  we  to 
strut  and  plume  ourselves  upon  our  unhampered 
freedom,  while  we  act  like  slaves?  Worse  than 
slaves  we  should  be  if  we  allowed  one  breath  of 
party  spirit,  one  thought  of  party  aggrandizement, 

to  enter  into  the   choice  we   are  about  to  make. 
33 


854  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

Slaves  are  driven  to  their  work;  shall  we  will 
ingly  let  ourselves  be  beaten  into  doing  the  dirty 
work  of  others  by  sacrificing  the  nobility  of  our 
manhood  ?  Do  we  meet  here,  like  paid  gladiators 
of  old,  to  cut  each  other's  throats  in  earnest  while 
attacking  and  defending  a  sham  fortress,  raised  in 
the  arena  for  the  diversion  of  those  who  set  us  on 
to  the  butchery  and  promise  to  pay  the  survivors  ? 
Are  we  to  provide  a  feast  of  carrion  for  a  flock  of 
vultures  and  unclean  beasts  of  prey,  when  we  need 
only  stand  together,  and  be  true  to  ourselves  and 
to  each  other,  to  accomplish  one  of  the  greatest 
acts  in  history  ?  The  vultures  will  leave  us  alone 
unless  we  destroy  each  other ;  we  need  not  fear 
them.  We  are  not  slaves  to  be  terrified  into  com 
pliance  with  evil,  neither  are  we  sheep  that  we 
need  huddle  trembling  together  at  the  snarling  of 
a  wolf." 

"  No,  no,  indeed !  "  were  the  words  heard  on  all 
sides  in  the  audience,  now  thoroughly  roused. 

"  I  do  not  say,  elect  this  candidate,  or  that  one. 
I  am  not  canvassing  for  any  candidate.  It  is  too 
late  for  that,  even  if  it  were  seemly  for  me  to  do  so. 
I  am  canvassing  for  the  cause  of  liberty  against 
slavery,  as  better  men  have  done  before  me  in  this 
very  house.  I  am  defending  the  reputation  of  unity 
against  the  slanderous  attack  of  disunion,  against 
the  fearful  peril  of  secession.  I  appeal  to  you,  as 
you  are  men,  to  act  as  men  in  this  great  crisis,  to 
put  out  your  strong  hands  together  and  avert  the 
overwhelming  disaster  that  threatens  us ;  to  stand 


AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN.  35& 

side  by  side  as  brothers,  —  for  we  are  indeed 
brothers,  children  of  one  father  and  one  mother, 
heirs  of  such  magnificent  heritage  as  has  not  fallen 
to  the  lot  of  mortality  before,  co-heirs  of  freedom, 
and  inheritors  of  the  free  estate,  five  and  fifty  mil 
lions  of  free  children,  born  to  our  mother,  the  great 
republic,  who  bow  the  knee  to  no  man,  and  call 
no  man  master." 

Loud  applause  greeted  this  part  of  the  speech. 

"  I  appeal  from  license  to  law,  from  division  to 
harmony,  from  the  raging  turmoil  of  angry  and 
devouring  passion  without  to  the  calm  serenity  that 
reigns  within  these  walls.  As  we  turn  in  horror 
and  loathing  from  the  unbridled  fury  of  human 
beings,  changed  almost  to  beasts,  so  let  us  turn  in 
hope  and  security  to  those  things  we  can  honor  and 
respect,  to  the  dignity  of  truth  and  the  unbending 
strength  of  unquestioned  right. 

"  I  appeal  to  you  to  make  this  day  the  greatest 
in  your  lives,  the  most  memorable  in  our  history  as 
a  nation.  Lay  aside  this  day  the  memories  of  the 
past,  and  look  forward  to  the  brightness  of  the  fu 
ture.  Throw  down  the  weapons  of  petty  and  mur 
derous  strife,  and  join  together  in  perfect  harmony 
of  mutual  trust.  Be  neither  Republicans,  nor 
Democrats,  nor  Independents.  Be  what  it  is  your 
greatest  privilege  to  be  —  American  citizens.  Cast 
parties  to  the  winds,  and  uphold  the  state.  Trample 
under  your  free-born  feet  the  badges  of  party  bond 
age,  the  ignoble  chains  of  party  slavery,  the  wretched 
hopes  of  party  preferment." 


356  AN  AMERICAN  POLITICIAN. 

"Yes.  Hear,  hear!  He  is  right!"  cried  many 
voices. 

"Yes,"  answered  John  Harrington,  in  tones  that 
rose  to  the  very  roof  of  the  vast  building. 

"  '  Yes,  by  that  blood  our  fathers  shed, 

O  Union,  in  thy  sacred  cause, 
Whilst,  streaming  from  the  gallant  dead, 
It  sealed  and  sanctified  thy  laws.' 

"Yes,  and  strong  hearts  and  strong  hands  will 
hold  their  own ;  the  promise  of  brave  men  will  pre 
vail,  and  echoing  down  the  avenues  of  time  will 
strike  grand  chords  of  harmony  in  the  lives  of  our 
children  and  children's  children.  So,  in  the  far-off 
ages,  when  hundreds  of  millions  of  our  flesh  and 
blood  shall  fill  this  land,  dwelling  together  in  the 
glory  of  such  peace  as  no  turmoil  can  trouble  and 
no  discontent  disturb,  those  men  of  the  dim  future 
will  remember  what  we  swore  to  do,  and  what  we 
did ;  and  looking  back,  they  will  say  one  to  another : 
'  On  that  day  our  fathers  struck  a  mighty  blow,  and 
shattered  and  crushed  and  trampled  out  all  dissen 
sions  and  all  party  strife  forever  and  ever.' 

"  Choose,  then,  of  your  own  heart  and  will  a  man 
to  be  our  President  and  our  leader.  Elect  him  with 
one  accord,  and  as  you  give  your  voices  in  the 
choice,  stand  here  together,  knee  to  knee,  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  hand  to  hand ;  and  let  the  mighty  oath 
go  thundering  up  to  heaven, 

" '  THIS  UNION  SHALL  NOT  BE  BROKEN  I ' " 


